Clean Fall
by ForgetMeNaught
Summary: Everything built, everything learned, everything desired... it shall be taken from you. What did you expect of war?
1. Chapter 1

Hello my friends. Welcome to Clean Fall, the sequel to Line in the Sand. If you have not read Line in the Sand, I advise that you do so, simply because the following summary does not cover everything that happened previously. Also, it's a good story, and I'd hate to think about a future in which people do not read my fan fictions, even though they have little real consequence in terms of literary value. … Yes… Clean Fall.

I would have had the sequel up and running sooner, but for some inane reason I was unable to get this damn thing started. This is the third time I've written chapter 1, and I'm certain this writing is the best one. Enjoy.

--

_Miracle City, a spicy cesspool of crime and villainy._

_This is the story of Manny Rivera, better known as El Tigre; son of the legendary superhero, White Pantera; grandson of the evil super villain, Puma Loco._

_Miracle City has slipped into a time of great darkness. The villains of the city have banded together, and are disrupting and destroying any semblance of peace and order in the name of a group named M. In short order, M's supporters have assassinated two young heroes, undermined the city's military forces, and defeated the defenders of Miracle City: the Riveras. Left severely wounded by his encounter with the leader of M, the super villain Maxim, El Tigre was given the opportunity to leave Miracle City forever and live in peace with Zoe Aves. He turned down this "offer", and returned to his home to reorganize his family and strike at M a second time._

_Meanwhile, having abandoned his previous location, the New Alamo research facility, Maxim seeks out a new headquarters to complete his work: the fall of the free world. While his allies strive to create this new base of operations, the shadow of M falls upon the resting place of a great evil…_

--

**Chapter 1, Dark Alliance**

--

As he walked across the dry, lifeless soil, twitching slightly whenever it would crunch under his shoes, Maxim kept his sights set on the building before him: the abandoned prison. He could not for the life of him figure out why, if this place was such a problem, it wasn't demolished. One could argue that it was left standing because it was _her _place. But according to frightened sources, _she _wasn't here right now. Tonight would change that, apparently. Dark rebirth. That's what they called it. Every once in a while, provided she had suffered destruction, Sartana of the Dead would enjoy a dark rebirth. If he was lucky, Maxim would arrive before the event and see it all with his own two eyes. Otherwise this would be a lot more boring. A crisp wind blew across the yard, and in the distance Maxim could here a few gun shots ring out. He was not afraid… but for some reason he drew his trench coat tighter around his body. Cold day today. Very unusual. He wondered if it was always this cold when Sartana was shaking the earth from her old bones, or if this was just some kooky coincidence he'd be relating to Nikolai. The front door was shut tight… with rust on its hinges. Was it always this bad? He forced the gateway open, pulling hard on the sealed doors until the rust cracked and fell to the ground. Just inside the decaying prison lay a sea of sparkling gems and gold coins.

"Quite the collection…"

The echo was eerily magnificent. It was both powerful from the vast emptiness of the huge room and noticeably scattered by its odd geography. The piles of loot made him sound grave and foreboding, something of a reflection of his inner beauty, or lack thereof. Beyond much of the treasure was her throne, gathering dust after many weeks of vacancy. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary here… the view was nice though. Looking up to a hole in the ceiling, set at a forty-five degree angle from the throne, Maxim could see the moon. It fell about center in the hole, and at once the villain was overcome with a sense of dread. How very strange… he hasn't felt dread in a long time. Not since he was just a young man starting off on this path to ruin. The lights flickered, the wind outside howled, and the shadows on all the walls began to peel and flow toward the center of the room, just in front of the throne. Backing away slowly, Maxim watched the darkness pool in the pale moonlight, sinking through the gold and stone below, oozing down into the already poisoned earth. There was a cracking sound, like concrete giving after being crushed again and again by a pile driver. Where was it coming from? As Maxim investigated, growing closer to where the shadows seeped into the floor, he was stunned by the very sudden appearance of a mound, protruding through the cement and loot like it was nothing. A pile of dirt was the first thing to rise, and from it came a low groan, like a dying animal forcing its way into continued existence. A skeletal hand forced its way from the mound, fingers extended and clenching, swiping at some unseen thing. A second hand emerged, stabilizing the being that lay beneath the earth. Both hands were planted firmly into the mound and started pushing, dragging from the soil a head and torso, stopping just below the ribs. The skeleton reared back in a blood-curdling howl, and green light, behaving like a living, writhing creature, pushed its way out of the earth, wrapping around the skeleton within its twisting embrace. When all of the bones were consumed, there was a great flash; Maxim shielded his eyes from the light, and when it died, he gazed upon her, facing her throne, gently strumming her guitar. Sartana sighed in satisfaction and slowly approached her throne, wiping away the dust from the seat and sitting with creaking bones. She strummed her guitar a few times before looking up, smile fading when it became clear she wasn't alone.

"… Who are you? What are you doing in my lair?"

"A very impressed guest."

"Guests are not allowed. They all too often turn out to be thieves, or solicitors."

"Solicitors, yes. That's funny. You're funny."

"Well, I try," Sartana mused, running her bony digits across the strings. "So, which are you?"

"I'm afraid I'm closer to the second one…"

"It really doesn't matter. You have to die either way." Sartana stood and held her guitar tight. She rushed her hand across the instrument, and one by one, a batch of skeleton banditos emerged violently from the floor, scattering coins as they appeared. They turned to the intruder and started to advance. "Any last words?"

Maxim turned and looked through the hole in the ceiling again, smiling up at his favorite celestial body. He returned his gaze to Sartana.

"You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

"Wha…?"

What Maxim said really made no sense… but then, they didn't really need to make sense. They weren't his last words. As one bandito grew too close, Maxim spun hard, and with a blast of blue flames and single swat the attacker was reduced to bones. This triggered the other banditos to attack, but they all crumbled within moments of coming into range of the intruder's attacks. His feet, his fists… imbued with his power, Maxim seemed nothing short of unbeatable. When the first wave was laid to waste, he paused to take a cleansing breath, and cast his trench coat to the floor. It was just weighing him down. He stood dressed in gray and black, not even showing any sign of who he was with this outfit. From shoulder to shoulder he wore gray, with a tight collar conforming to his neck. The jacket was black from the shoulders down, interrupted in the middle by the zipper, pulled all the way up to the collar. His pants too were black, with what looked like a belt in between the two articles of the same shade of gray as the shoulders. His metal-plated boots clicked against the gold as he paced in front of Sartana, waiting for her response.

"… So you beat a few banditos. Anybody can do that, these days."

"Well then, maybe you should try a different pitch."

"Like this?!"

Sartana struck her strings again, this time pointing the guitar's headstock at him. There was a violent sound, followed by an equally violent surge of green energy. The explosion was impressive: gold and jewels flying everywhere, and smoke rising from the blast zone. But Sartana growled as she looked at who sat atop a pile of her loot.

"You're a quick one…"

She strummed her guitar again, and another bolt of energy lashed out at Maxim. Like before, he jumped away from the attack, nimbly avoiding extreme pain. He landed on the walkway above the floor and broke into a run as Sartana attacked him again; the sound of brick and mortar splintering behind him as he ran from a searing beam filled the air. Finally it stopped, and Maxim took this moment to go on the offensive. He broke his run, sliding to a stop and jumping onto the guard rail on the walkway. He leaped from there, coming in directly over his "hostess". But when he brought his foot down, fueled by whatever force existed within him to make him so dangerous, he only cracked the floor of the prison, scattering whatever was in his way. She had backed away from him, or he had deliberately missed. In either case, Sartana turned her guitar on him again, headstock aimed, and fired a last bolt at him. There was flash, just as bright as the one that brought Sartana of the Dead back into the world of the living. Green had met blue at some point, met a great and powerful resistance. And when the explosion associated with the attack went off far to the left, the ancient evil had to wonder who her guest really was.

"… What is your name?"

"I am M."

"M. Well, that is interesting."

"How so?"

"The M that unified the Russian gangs?"

"Da."

"Who forced the German and French cartels to set aside their differences?"

"… Who told you about that?"

"I have my sources," she replied slyly, shouldering her guitar and sliding her fingertips across one another. The scratching sound was unique, and a little irritating. "What are you doing in Miracle City, M? Is it our turn to sink into anarchy?"

"As much as I love anarchy, dear lady," he said coldly, though smiling just the same, "it is much too useless to me. Not once have I induced a state of anarchy and let it remain as such for more than a day. Natural systems of government are too dangerous."

"You love your words too much."

"You're not the first to say that. Anyway, you are still partially correct. It _is _Miracle City's turn."

Sartana took her seat again, gently playing a sad folk song, sans the vocals, as she pondered a few things. Maxim watched calmly, certain he wouldn't have to do much running now. If he had been wrong, he'd die on the spot. But he wasn't. He knew Sartana would love to have a chance to destroy the world with him.

"Why have you come to me, then? Are you having troubles?"

"No no, not at all. But I'm one to plan ahead. No purpose to play the short game if you can't win the long game."

"And?"

"The world is too big a place for one person to rule."

"Ahh…"

"Now you're getting it." Maxim raised a hand ran it across his forehead, pushing stray hairs out of his face. He did that a lot after a brief exercise. "In exchange for your help, I'll give you half of the world to rule over as you see fit."

"It's cute that you're offering me this," she stopped playing and leaned to her left, resting her arm on the armrest and supporting her head with it. "But you do realize that I can take over the whole of the Earth on my own…"

"Oh, I suppose that's why it's still known as the 'free world'."

"… I want half of the countries. None of that 'hemisphere' nonsense you people normally try to push; and I get to pick what countries."

"Dang, I thought I had you there for a second. Anything else?"

"No… I suppose it's only fair to warn you that I'll betray you at any moment, given that it's opportune for me."

"Of course." Maxim approached slowly and extended his hand. "Do we have a deal, then?"

Sartana smiled and took his hand in her own. Her laughter filled the air, and the night grew dark as a cloud passed in front of the full moon, hiding the glimmering light from the world.

--

_Rivera Estate_

--

Manny slunk into his room after scaling the building atop which his home was perched, breathing heavy and clutching his chest. He had gravely mistaken his health when he left the hospital… now he wished he had just gone back to his room. He spun his belt buckle and withdrew from his Tigre persona before sitting tiredly on his bed. The ache receded as his breathing slowed, and he was overcome with a sense of calm. As he sat, he got the feeling that the house was empty. Strange… he got up and walked to his open door and entered the hallway. All was dark, as it should be this time of night. A chill struck him, and the moonlight disappeared from all the windows. It was times like this that Manny was reminded of his childhood fears, things he had never let go of. Humans never really stop being afraid of the dark; it's simply a matter of degree. Manny began to search out his family, going from room to room, finding each room, each bed to be empty. Indeed, Manny was alone here. He paused to think about why, and it did finally occur to him.

"They're out looking for me… the hospital must have called when they found out I left. Yeah."

Manny left the hall where most of the rooms could be accessed and entered the front room. Everything seemed so… cold in here at night. It never really occurred to him that a place he loved so much, a place that was always warm, could be cold. He sat in his father's chair, gazing out across the floor. The clouds that blocked the moon slithered away, letting silver light fall across the hardwood floor, making it shine beautifully. Manny clenched his hands on the armrests, feeling more uncomfortable now that light was filling the room again. It was as though he feared being caught, though he couldn't tell why. But there was something he could tell: he was thirsty. With a heavy sigh he stood and walked to the kitchen, boots filling the still air with quiet clicks. He paused to see Little Mule and Senor Chapi, sleeping quietly in the night. This brought a smile to Manny's lips; at least they found some peace tonight. Silencing his footsteps, Manny continued to the fridge, pausing as he looked at the contents. Nothing seemed idea. Once his eyes adjusted, he just started staring into the light, and eventually he closed his eyes and pressed his head against the freezer door. As the cold refrigerator air poured out into the room, Manny was forced to suppress feelings of anxiety and sorrow building up in his chest. He remembered all he had been through tonight, and all that he still had left to go through. The anger he felt had burned out, leaving only bitter regret. Maybe he should have gone with Zoe. She did make him happy. She could have continued to make him happy.

"No… it's better this way."

He left the kitchen with a glass of horchata. Something sweet would lighten his mood. Returning to his father's chair, Manny sat and sipped his drink, staring out into the night. He worried for Zoe, he worried for Frida. He worried for his father and grandfather, scouring the city for him. He worried for his mother, who was out of his reach, helping those less fortunate in Brazil. She'd be back soon… at least being in a coma for two weeks lessened the amount of time he had to wait for her return. The very last person Manny Rivera worried for was Manny Rivera, knowing deep down that M may be the very last villain he would ever defeat.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm not quite sure if I like the way this chapter worked out. I wanted to show the aftermath for a number of parties here and try to develop the story at the same time, but am unsure if I've effectively done so. If enough negative feedback appears, I'll tear this sucker down and give it a second try. – The Author

**--**

**Chapter 2, All That We Have Lost**

--

_Rivera Estate, 5:30 AM_

--

_Certainty._

The door opened slowly, interrupting the silence of the empty home, but not by much. In truth, the sound of Rodolfo's big bronze boots did more to pollute the room than the door's gentle creak. He and Grandpapi had spent the whole of the night scouring the streets for Manny, and when they returned home they had all but given up. Rodolfo had immediately turned towards the kitchen; it was Grandpapi who found Manny in the recliner, sleeping soundly. He left him there for a time, feeling a little foolish for not suggesting coming home earlier like he thought they should. Of course he would leave the hospital to come here. This is where he belongs. Grandpapi sat at the kitchen table, waiting patiently for a time. Rodolfo sat down opposite of him, setting two cups of coffee as he did.

"Manny's home."

"What?"

"Your chair."

"Ah," Rodolfo whispered, looking over to his preferred seat. Indeed, there he sat sleeping, neck slightly tilted and open mouth drooling. "How long do you think he's been here?"

"Oh, probably the whole night."

They took turns sipping their coffee and simply staring at the table. They were just too tired to do much more, but they couldn't very well go to sleep just yet. There was still work to do; so much work. What should be done with Manny? He was still too injured to fight… and the hospital would be the best place for him to recuperate. But suppose the enemy did not stay his hand; could they count on the authorities to defend him when they were so soundly defeated? Rodolfo finally had to acknowledge this idea.

"Papi…"

"…"

"I'm worried for my son."

"He'll be fine. He's had more crippling injuries."

"… That's not what I meant."

Manny stirred from his long nap and lifted his head, wincing as he stretched the aching neck muscles that had suffered while he slept. He wiped away the saliva that covered his chin and stood, stretching his back and arms despite the pulling of the stitches in his chest. The injury was hurting less now that he had rested, negating all that physical activity he forced himself through. In hindsight, he should've just taken the elevator. Who would be on it at midnight, really? But of course, before that, he was trying to avoid getting caught, and he didn't know his family was out in the night. Manny turned when he heard his Grandpapi speak to him.

"Good morning, Manny."

"G' morning Grandpapi. Mornin' dad."

"Hola Manny… how did you sleep?"

"Awful," he replied quietly, taking his seat at the table. His eyes pained him, and when he pressed his fingers against them he realized he had a headache again. It had just been an unpleasant twenty-four hours, and he desperately wanted to move on. "I fell asleep waiting for you guys to come home. Sorry about disappearing like that."

"It's alright, mijo…"

Manny let his head slump down on the table. The gentle thud didn't do much to change the pace of the conversation; everyone was still pained from their fatigue. But Rodolfo wouldn't let exhaustion stand in his way. There were questions that needed answering, and now that Manny was awake, he could answer them. First, the simple one.

"Manny… who is it that caused you such harm?"

He mumbled something, keeping his face pressed against the table. After a brief silence that followed the incomprehensible response, Rodolfo looked at Manny and asked him again, this time mustering some additional force to try to break through.

"Who is our enemy, Manny?"

"I don't know…" he replied, lifting his head up off the table. He propped his face up with his arms and started at the wall opposite his seat. "He said he had many names… but that one of them was M."

Without looking, Manny could tell that there were looks of tension aimed his way. Like he had told a joke that was offensive, mocked something too soon. How could he have know? M had only just infiltrated his world. Finally he decided enough was enough.

"Who is he?" he asked tiredly.

"… No one really knows, mijo. He's a villain that delights in spreading crime in his wake."

"Don't all villains like to do that? Tell me something I don't already know about him."

"Well," Grandpapi chipped in, setting his empty cup down with a heavy hand, "every time you here about something bad happening in the news in some other country, though the media says nothing about it, the authorities all blame someone named M."

"What?"

"Yes… well, that's what the crazies say. Conspiracy theorists," Grandpapi scoffed, tilting back in his chair. "What you can count on is that he's got his fingers in everything, just because every now and then crime rates go crazy in random countries already having problems."

"You certainly know a lot about this man, papi."

"Well, you know…"

"… So, what are we gonna' do? He's taking our city now."

Rodolfo stared into his coffee, sighing and swirling the liquid in his cup. It all came back to those big questions now. Would the enemy stay his hand? What sort of tricks could they expect in the future? It was times like this that made him wish he had more friends in the underworld. The enemy you know is always better than the enemy you don't.

--

_Suarez Residence, 7:04 AM_

--

_Patience._

Frida had just begun to eat her toast, smearing a little more jelly on it when she decided it wasn't sweet enough, when the phone began to ring. She didn't really care, so she didn't bother to get up to answer it. Her father was the one who finally did, doing so in a huff. Frida chewed quietly so she could listen, hearing only Emiliano's words.

"Suarez… Nikita!"

Frida sighed grumpily; great, that's exactly what she needed. Her twin sisters Nikita and Anita. What did they want? Calling to earn more praise from their father, the esteemed chief of police? When they moved away to join some other hoity-toity police station, it was something of a happy occasion for Frida. It meant she wouldn't have to compete for her parents' attention as much. Sure, there was still the law, but at least it was one less thing to share the love with. The immediate love, anyway.

"Yes, your room is already prepared!"

Frida coughed to avoid choking on her toast. A room was prepared? When? How out of it was she that she didn't notice her parents making Nikita and Anita's room ready? That meant they would be visiting in the near future. Frida thought back to the last time they visited… they had crammed four years worth of sibling rivalry into a week, and that rivalry manifested as "friendly pranks" conveniently geared towards Frida. Great… more of that.

"Yes, she's feeling better now… I'll be sure to tell her that. I love you too. Adios."

Frida looked out the kitchen window when she heard Emiliano making his way back into the kitchen, trying her best to look innocent, or at the very least not guilty of eavesdropping. The best way to do that, of course, was to feign innocent conversation.

"So… Nikita and Anita doin' alright?"

"Oh yes."

"… And?"

"They'll be coming to stay for a while. They have officially transferred to my precinct for the month."

"Can they do that?"

The phone rang again, and both Frida and Emiliano turned to face it. The chief of police was a little busy with trying to get out of the house, so he turned to Frida and gave her that look. After the second ring she sighed and pushed away from the table, making her way to the living room, where the nearest phone waited. She picked it up at about the fourth ring.

"Hola, Suarez residence."

"_Buon giorno, Frida."_

"… I'm sorry?"

"_It's'a me, Sergio."_

"Oh, right. Sergio. How ya' doin'?"

"_Oh, I can't complain."_

"You should try anyway. It'll make you feel better."

"_Oh ho, that's clever,"_ he replied, forcing a small laugh, _"be careful not to'a cut yourself with your sharp wit."_

"Heh, yeah. Can I help with something?"

"_Well, I was just wondering… if'a maybe you'd like'a to do something this week."_

"Hmm, actually, I'm a little busy this week…"

"_Oh…" _he answered, sounding a little dejected, _"but isn't that what you'a said last week?"_

"Yeah, well, you know how it is, bein' a working man. Calendars fill up crazy fast these days."

"_Yes, I see. Maybe next week then."_

"Yeah, next week." Frida paused to look at the clock; seeing that time was slipping away from her she hurriedly finished up the call. "Alright Sergio, I'll talk to you later."

"_Ah. Arrivederci, Frida."_

"Uh, okay. Bye."

Frida pressed the end button and dropped the cordless onto the couch cushion where she usually "hung the phone up," turning and leaving the room without giving the call much thought. After the first week, Sergio had started calling her more and more frequently, and it was starting to get annoying. Seriously, it was like the guy couldn't take a hint. That sort of felt familiar to her, but she couldn't tell why.

--

_Sergio's Lair, 7:20 AM_

--

Sergio had sunk to pacing. For the better part of a month he had waited, tried again and again, and boiled over because of that girl. Now that his temper had reached its limit, he clenched his fists and turned to his computer console, taking to smashing the keyboard again and again, causing the screen to hiccup with commands and prompts. He growled violently and finally kicked his chair over, blood boiling from his growing hate.

"Frida! Damn you!"

He wound his way to a window and looked out onto the city. The more he stared at it, the more his hatred welled up. He was quickly losing patience with her, and by the same token the man who had promised Sergio that he would have her as his own, if only he obeyed every order.

--

_Graveyard of Heroes, 8:15 AM_

--

_Innocence._

Zoe had not gone to school that morning as she promised. Instead she just wandered aimlessly, staring at the sidewalk as she made her meager advance. Minute after minute passed in the blink of an eye, and soon Zoe realized that she was no where near the high school and she had run out of time. So, she just walked away. Eventually her feet brought her to a most peculiar location: a flower shop. When Zoe arrived there, she pressed her hands against the window and looked in. She saw red lilies, freshly cut and placed in cool water; this brought a smile to her face, and immediately Zoe felt the deep urge to cry. She turned away from the lilies, which brought her back to that wonderful day in the park, to a time she would never again enjoy. That memory brought only pain now… she understood why Grandmami never wished to discuss her botched wedding. When she opened her eyes again, Zoe saw a different flower. She read the note attached to the flowers and repeated it out loud.

"Michaelmas Daisies… say farewell to friends held dear."

Zoe stood at the gate of the renowned Graveyard of Heroes, where all of Miracle City's defenders were remembered. She clutched a small batch of the daisies she bought at the flower shop, eyes red from crying and hands shaking, and as she stood there she regretted coming at all. No. She had to do this. She pushed the gate open and walked inside, unaware that she had been followed, that she was being watched from a car parked just down the street. A man opened the door and stepped out, leaving his partner in the vehicle and making his way to the cemetery entrance. Once there, he straightened his black tie, smoothed out his black suit coat, and peered through his black sunglasses, spying Zoe atop the hill, coming to a stop at a great monolithic eagle. The man in black raised a hand to his ear to hear better, fighting the strong wind that was blowing into the small communication device.

"Please repeat that, sir."

"_I said let her have her moment. Then bring her in."_

"Roger that."

Crying again, Zoe stared at the monument to her victims… a great eagle, carved from glimmering marble, honoring the memory of two of Miracle City's favorite young stars. It was her fault… M had machinated their deaths, but it was Zoe who had condemned them, who had bound them to their falling zeppelin. She clutched the daisies tighter, shutting her eyes in an attempt to block it all out. Once the tears were routed, Zoe opened her eyes again, reading the inscription on the monument.

_Never doubted, never unloved, never to be forgotten._

She sighed, looking down at the meager flowers in her hands. This was a bad idea. As if a few daisies would ever make any of this better for anyone. It was a kind gesture, but she felt… hollow. Zoe left five flowers on each of the plagues bearing the names of her unfortunate victims.

"Carla… Carlito… I'm so sorry."

Zoe fell to her knees then, holding her hands to her eyes to stifle the tears once more. She did not notice the man in black behind her, hands folded in front and watching patiently. He followed his order to the letter, and did not interrupt Zoe's grieving. She stopped crying again and tried to stand; it was hard for her. She struggled to wipe away her tears and gasped when she heard a footstep. A hand passed her shoulder and stopped, holding a small handkerchief. She took it slowly and wiped off her cheeks, brushing away the black make-up that had streaked down her face. She sobbed a few times before successfully standing, turning to face the stranger who had witnessed her breakdown. She gasped again, seeing an American before her.

"… Who are you?"

"Agent Geoffrey, ILEA division 4."

"ILEA?"

"International Law Enforcement Agency. I need you to come with me, Black Cuervo."

She panicked and backed away a few steps. How did he…? At what point had she become so sloppy that a government agency could learn her secret identity. She turned to run, but stopped when the cock of a gun caught her attention.

"Don't run, Ms. Aves. Please, just come with me."

She was placed in handcuffs, taken to the black car, and gently pushed into the back seat. And as they drove along, all Zoe could think about was how she had failed her family. If the ILEA, whose existence she questioned slightly, had learned about Black Cuervo, it was only a matter of time before her mother and grandmother too were arrested. She stared out the window, watching the buildings pass by. She pressed her forehead against the glass and let out a low whine, which got the attention of Agent Geoffrey's partner, who lifted his glasses to look back at her; he did not speak to her, and she thus gained little comfort.

--

_Unknown Location, 8:45 AM_

--

_Hope._

Zoe was held in the front room of this makeshift base, certain now more than ever that she was in over her head. It appeared that this building was _never _a base of operation for the supposed ILEA… but the agents running here and there, all dressed in the same black garb, operating government machinery… maybe she _was_ under arrest. The agent who had not introduced himself walked down the hallway, waving another agent after him. This left Zoe and Agent Geoffrey in the front, and she thought long and hard about her fate. Finally, the silent agent waved them in, and Zoe was pushed along by her captor into a dark back room. Geoffrey and his partner followed in after her, and there Zoe saw a figure sitting in front of a series of computer screens, basking the blue light, glancing at relevant information when he could and deleting anything that was useless. Finally, Geoffrey spoke up.

"Sir… Zoe Aves."

"Thank you, Agent Geoffrey. Unbind her and leave us."

Zoe was standing in shock, staring at the man at the computers with wide eyes while the agent complied and removed her manacles. When the heavy door was slid shut, the room became even darker, lit only by the six screens. And one by one they went out, removing all light from the room. When all was in darkness, Zoe heard footsteps coming from the man's direction, and the squeak of a swiveling chair accompanied them. He stood and took a few steps forward, then around Zoe's position. Something clicked in dark, and a single light came on over her. She was still staring forward.

"Zoe… I'm very disappointed in you."

"… Who are you?"

"You mean to ask who I really am…"

"Yes."

"… I cannot tell you that yet."

"Why not?" Zoe asked, turning to where she heard M walking around her, filling the dark space with his heavy footsteps. He was again in front of her. "Are you afraid?"

"… Yes."

"Of what?"

"Losing my advantage, Zoe. But enough of that. That's not why I brought you here."

He slowly stepped forward, emerging from the shadow into the light that surrounded her. Zoe backed up two steps, sinking into the darkness opposite of M. His hand reached out and stopped her, not with a forceful grasp, but with a gentle caress. He touched her chin, and immediately she lost the will to move. He frowned at her, running his cold thumb across her jaw.

"I can feel it in you…"

"What?"

"… He has broken you."

Zoe stared at his stern face, his cold eyes. She had no words to respond with, and no will to break his contact. She closed her eyes slowly and breathed deep… she sought the calm that she so desperately needed. But her body betrayed her. Her heart began beating faster, and which each breath she whimpered a little.

"You gave him your heart."

"… Stop it."

M took his hand back and turned away, staring into the pitch black. He turned his head slowly and continued his speech.

"You told him you loved him, but he does not share that feeling."

"Stop it."

Zoe's legs faltered and she fell to her knees. She raised a hand to her mouth to stop the whimpering, trying to choke off the sadness that threatened to engulf her. She looked up at M, wreathed in light and shadow, and she saw his eyes. They seemed so… understanding.

"He broke your heart. He broke you."

"… Why are you doing this?"

"Because I need your help, Zoe. And you can't help me until you have come to terms with your fate."

She turned her eyes to floor and started to cry. She hated him now.

"You don't know anything… let me be."

She was truly crying again, as Zoe shed her tears M quietly watched, showing no emotion whatsoever. But in his heart he knew this was the moment he was waiting for; the culmination of all his efforts in managing Zoe's love life. From the very start he blessed Zoe's relationship with Manny not so that he could hurt El Tigre, but bring Black Cuervo to an entirely new plateau. He leaned close and brought a hand under Zoe's chin again, lifting her face up to meet his. She stared at him shocked, and he gazed back at her, eyes reflecting his steely resolve. M gently ran a finger across her temple, brushing away stray hair with his thumb.

"Zoe… I want you to forget. Forget. Only then will there be room for hope between the pain and loss."

And as she looked into his burning blue eyes, Zoe though for a moment, coming to a conclusion about herself… maybe it would be better if she _did _forget.

--

_Several hours later_

--

_Freedom._

Black Cuervo emerged from the shadows, walking briskly and confidently through the corridors of Maxim's lair, having just finished her upgrade in his lab. She recalled what was said about each piece of her altered arsenal…

"_Your arm laser was equipped with an M series power amplifier. By activating it, you can increase the concussive power of your laser blasts by as much as 30%. We have also improved the ammunition efficiency."_

Her laser… she had always taken excellent care of her laser. It was small, but always a potent weapon. Now it was stronger, if M's repugnant science officers knew anything. The weapon clung to her wrist guard as it always did, but something else felt very different to her. She lifted her left hand and looked at the gaudy gauntlet that was now wrapped around it. Cuervo clenched her fist a couple times, being more accustomed to the extra weight.

"_We reversed engineered a few parts of your arm laser and integrated them into this proto-type Power Fist. By activating it, you can punch with an incredible force. You can easily crack solid stone apart with a punch."_

Cuervo entered the elevator and lightly touched the up button, waiting for the lift to take her to the ground level where M waited patiently. She stared through her visor and recalled what else was told to her.

"_Your jet pack has been upgraded with the latest propulsion equipment. It runs quieter, faster, and more efficiently than ever before. Your wing structure has been appropriately modified to compensate. You have two small missiles attached to the jet pack, each filled with small ball bearings to cause shrapnel damage. And your flight system can now be completely managed with your helmet; you can view the status of every system at your disposal with your new digital visor."_

The elevator stopped, and the door behind Cuervo opened slowly. She turned and exited the dimly lit lift, stepping out into the light of the hallway. M stood before the assembly of agents, smiling wickedly when Cuervo came before him. What made him enjoy this most was the lighting up of the iridescent purple-red paint on Cuervo's helmet, leaving a symbol shining in the light. The M drawn on her made it clear to all who Black Cuervo obeyed, and who the city would soon bow to.

--

**Author's Note: **The acronym ILEA does break down to International Law Enforcement Agency. The A stands for Academy. For more on the subject, visit the Wikipedia article and leave me alone.


	3. Chapter 3

It occurred to me that I haven't done a great job managing the chronology so far. But here's what's gone by, in the proper order: Monday, Manny leaves the hospital (though no one knows it), M confronts Sartana, and Manny falls asleep in his father's chair. Tuesday, Zoe falls into shadow, Sergio starts to lose control, and Frida goes to school.

Also on Tuesday…

**--**

**Chapter 3, The Others**

--

_Miracle City High School, Tuesday, 11:52 AM_

--

After the morning Frida had, she was rather happy to receive her lunch, a meager prize in a world so full of sorrows and annoyances. True, she was not particularly fond of this school's choice in hot dog… but she was not about to send it away either. As Frida made her way back to her usual table, her mood sank again. It was still empty. Well, of course it was. Manny was still in the hospital. Sighing in defeat, she walked slowly to the table and was about to sit down when something caught her eye. Frida happened to look up and see another table, almost as vacant as her own. Diego sat stabbing at his food again and again, looking very much bored out of his mind. She recalled how Diego had helped her and been there for her before this disaster was in full swing… and now he was alone. This allowed Frida to smile; she waded through the chaos of the courtyard and sat down next to him. At first he didn't notice, or at the very least pretended not to. Finally, he broke the silence.

"… Hola Zoe…"

"What?"

"Hm?" Diego turned when he heard his angel's voice, not even believing he had heard it. But there she sat, giving him quite the stare. "Oh, Frida! I'm sorry… I thought you were…"

"Yeah, because we're so similar," she said, words dripping with sarcasm. Just the same, she managed a smile, starting to stab at her food in much the same way as he.

"So… what are you doing at my table?"

"Oh, you know…" she mused, still playing with her meal, "you looked like you could use some company; I know I could use some."

"Oh, right," Diego said quietly. "What with Manny still being injured."

"Yeah. You don't mind, do you?"

He smiled and sat up straight, giving her a look that just resonated "not at all."

--

_Military Command Center, 12:00 PM_

--

Nikolai was tapping his pencil against the desk as he read over the reports his team had assembled. He let his disguise relax a bit as he sat in Fitzgerald's office; he was grateful that soldiers would follow just about any order. He had been left to his own devices for the better part of three hours, requesting to be left alone so that he may better process the information. And with each minute he read, he grew smarter, gaining the advantage he needed for the next phase. At least, that's what M had told him. He had no idea what the next phase was going to be. To be honest, Miracle City had proven to be an entirely different puzzle for his boss, and the mission, while moving along quite nicely, has taken on some peculiar twists. A knock at the door alerted Nikolai quite effectively, and within a second he had taken on the general's features again.

"What is it?"

"Sir, I've brought you your lunch."

"… Bring it in."

A nameless soldier pushed open the door and entered, and upon setting the tray containing the general's not so meager rations stood at attention. Fitzgerald continued writing something, not taking notice to the soldier. After a minute or two, he stopped writing and held up the paper. The soldier had no idea how to respond; he was just waiting to be dismissed.

"Take this to Lieutenant Gutierre. Tell him we're going to applying more pressure in these areas."

"Yes sir."

Watching the soldier leave, Nikolai let out a sigh when he saw that his guest had neglected the door. What's worse, his phone had started ringing, which actually caused him to jump. Always with the unexpected calls. He stood and walked quickly to the door, pushing it closed quietly. This allowed him to answer his phone in peace, which he did after quieting his breathing.

"General Fitzgerald."

"_Don't worry, Nicky. You won't have to be him for much longer."_

"That's good to know, sir."

"_Cute. Now, you'll be glad to know that Sartana is playing ball."_

"… Why would that make me glad? You know I have reservations about her. She's dangerous, my friend. Possibly more dangerous than you."

"_Well," _M continued, barely taking note of Nikolai's objection, _"I do have one last thing to do to make sure we actually walk away from this partnership with her. But in the mean time, I'll keep your reservations in mind."_

Nikolai remained quiet after that. He didn't like it when M made light of his instincts, which he was becoming more and more prone to do. Sometimes he felt as though he were being phased out.

"_Is something troubling you, Nikolai?"_

"No. Nothing."

"… _If you say so. Anyway, like I was saying, you won't have to be the general for much longer. Would you like to hear the plan?"_

"You have to ask? This body is terrible. I was worried I'd never get out of here."

--

_Rivera Estate, 12:00 PM_

--

An agreement was reached. Until things were judged to be safe for him, Manny was to remain sequestered to the estate, with one of the elder Riveras keeping an eye on him. Grandpapi had chosen to take the first watch, not realizing how boring guard would be. He expected at least a small morsel of fun to be gained from this, but almost immediately Manny went to his room and passed out on his bed. Six hours of nothing to do… that can drive you mad if you aren't at all satisfied with lazing about. And these days, being a sloth was the farthest thing from what Grandpapi Rivera wanted to do with his time. After all, how long would it be before he was too senile to be a villain anymore? Thoughts like that plagued him more and more these days. He watched the news for any sign of _anything _that could be remotely interesting… and found nothing. Disappointed, Grandpapi decided to take up another minute and check on his grandson for the fifteenth time. With a sigh and a popping knee, he climbed from his seat and made his way down the hallway… to find an empty bed.

"Eh? Manny?"

Now, that isn't something to panic about… but after checking all the usual places, Grandpapi had to start worrying. If Manny left the building, he ran the risk of getting injured, or killed, or possibly abducted by random men in vans. Well, maybe not the last one so much. Men in vans are typically a non-threat for Riveras anymore. At this stage, not knowing where to look, Grandpapi began to lose the ability to think straight. Forced by his own fear and thoughts of the worst case scenario, he rushed out the door onto the sundeck, deploying a balloon and lifting himself off via his sombrero. He'd find Manny if it took him forever! And had he started by checking the swimming pool, it wouldn't have taken him any more than thirteen seconds.

--

_Suarez Residence, 3:15 PM_

--

Frida laughed like she hadn't laughed in two weeks as she walked, keeping Diego nearby for the sake of company and entertainment. He proved to be a doubly valuable individual this day… triply if you add to it his vast intelligence. And as he walked with her, Diego couldn't help but let his mind swim within the vast ocean of his happiness; here he was, just going along on a nice day with his ideal woman, making her happy no less. He had to fight hard to continue the goofy smile that wanted desperately to crawl across his face. When they had reached Frida's house, however, his good feelings drained away, leaving a small frown where a smile had previously been.

"Well… I guess this is it…"

"Yeah," Frida replied softly, watching him shuffle his feet and stare at the ground. She felt a little bad for him. "But, uh, you could come in for a while if you want."

"That would be nice," he said, immediately perking up. But as he looked into Frida's eyes, ecstatic that she was finally letting him into her world without first being deceived, his smile once more faded. He couldn't today. There was work to be done. "But, I'm afraid I have to get home. The, uh, floors won't clean themselves, now will they?"

"No… I guess not."

"But thank you for inviting me, Frida. And for keeping me company today."

He was unsure how to part ways with her now… no physical gesture seemed at all appropriate. Finally, Diego extended his arm as if to give her a handshake, gently taking her by the fingers when she returned the gesture. He smiled and held her hand for a brief moment, turning to leave after that. He beat a hasty retreat home. Much work to be done.

--

_Skies of Miracle City, 3:36 PM_

--

He's been at it for hours… and frankly, Grandpapi was starting to panic. By now there was no way he'd be able to help Manny if he was in trouble, especially if it meant he was attacked before he could make use of his Tigre powers. Over and over he tried to imagine exactly what had happened. How did Manny get out without him noticing, and injured no less? It seems so improbable. Yet here he is, floating high over the streets, gazing down at the people walking to and fro, cursing them for their complacency. Didn't they realize how bad things were? He did spy one person that made him feel something else… unfortunately, it was only dread. And when that man leaped up onto a nearby rooftop, Grandpapi slowly descended, landing gently opposite of Rodolfo. There was silence between them, which was inevitably broken.

"Papi… what are you doing out here? Why aren't you watching Manny?"

"Well," he began, "I'm most certainly not out looking for him. After all, it's not as though he wandered off. I'm just… getting him an ice cream. Yes. Nothing more than that."

"… What was that first part?"

--

_Suarez Residence, 3:40 PM_

--

Frida was only part way into her homework, which she really didn't care about finishing. She had made a deal with her parents two weeks ago; if she at least put a reasonable amount of effort, they wouldn't stop her from visiting Manny in the hospital everyday. And it was actually working out nicely, though her teachers were complaining instead that the homework was only partially done. Nag nag nag… that's all teachers seem to do anymore. Tapping her pencil against her desk, Frida stared down at the word problem in her book. She hated word problems even more than regular problems. She didn't know why, though, because she was pretty fond of words. The fruit cake principle, it seems. Fruit is good, cake is great… where did fruit cake go wrong? Her train of thought, already taxed beyond all belief, was completely derailed when she heard the phone ring. She sighed angrily and pushed away from her desk, preparing to scrape off Sergio yet again.

"Yeah."

"_Hey Frida."_

Her eyes shot wide open and she gasped audibly. Once her heart had resumed beating, she choked on a few words before finally arriving at one that worked. "Manny?"

"_Yeah, Manny. What's up?"_

"Uhm, wow. Nothing." Frida sat down on her bed, still making sounds in her disbelief. After a brief pause, she spoke softly. "How are you?"

"_Pretty good, but a little bored. You wanna' come over?"_

"Uh… sure. I can be at the hospital by four."

"_What? No no, I mean do you wanna' come over to my house."_

"Your house? Manny, did you check yourself out?"

"… _Kinda'?"_

"Manny!" She was getting angry now. As much as she loved him, it was painful to consider that he would do so something so self-destructive. "I just saw you yesterday! You're still hurt!"

"… _I got better."_

"This is totally irresponsible! What were you thinking?" Frida was met with silence, which only made her angrier. She wanted him to say something, anything. She wanted him to try to justify his actions so she could just shut him down. "Well?"

"… _You sounded very grown up just now…"_

Now, a comment like that shouldn't have any bearing on the conversation, but in reality it can be very diffusing. After Manny had quietly said those words, Frida let her anger go, wondering if she really did sound grown up. No… she preferred the word mature. And to be honest, she did feel mature right now; and wasn't her goal in these hard times to try and be mature? So what he said flattered her a bit.

"Manny…"

"_Would you please come over? I'm kinda'…"_

"Lonely?"

"… _Yeah."_

--

_Aves Residence, 4:00 PM_

--

"Where is Zoe…?"

Grandmami Aves had taken to pacing, waiting patiently for her granddaughter to come home from school, that she may know if she was alright or not. And right now, evidence suggested things were _not _alright. What is it with kids and not being where they're expected to be? She had no idea what to do… Zoe wasn't answering her communicator. It was as though it was deactivated, which meant it couldn't even be traced to find her location. That was probably the most concerning thing of all. Grandmami started tapping the end of her cane on the floor, counting each and every second that passed with a single click of her walking aid. Something dawned on her, then. She was part of a network, wasn't she? And what was a network for if not for help in stressful times? Grandmami hobbled her way to the phone and picked up the receiver, dialing in a number that she, as well as many others had committed to memory. Holding the phone to her ear, she waited patiently as it rang. Then she heard his voice.

"_M."_

"M… it is I. Lady Gobbler."

"_Yes… what can I do for you, ma'am?"_

"… Zoe is missing."

There was a silence… Grandmami waited for him to respond, not knowing why he wasn't. He was simply trying to play this right. And after tapping his fingers a bit to make it seem as though he were just trying to understand what she said, he spoke.

"_Missing?"_

"Yes."

"_You're telling me that Zoe is missing…"_

"Yes!"

"… _I'll do what I can. In the mean time, just try to relax. No need to worry too much about this. I have eyes everywhere."_

"Thank you…"

The phone found the hook, and Grandmami Aves found her chair. She slowly backed into it, sinking into the downy comfort it sported. She was so tired, but she dared not go to sleep; she had a nasty habit of sleeping through important phone calls these days, and the one she was expecting was of the utmost importance.

--

_Rivera Estate, 4:30 PM_

--

Frida jumped into the pool with a hearty laugh, making as massive a splash as she possibly could. Needless to say, it wasn't particularly big. She surfaced and smiled, watching Manny drift atop the water with a contented smile on his face. The sun was bright, cooking his skin with its golden rays; the pool juxtaposed this perfectly, keeping him from becoming well done. Eyes closed and ears submerged, he didn't notice Frida gently swim up next to him until he felt her fingers running across the stitches his chest. He planted his feat and stood, shaking water from his hair. She continued to run a finger over his injury.

"Should you be getting these wet?"

"I dunno'… but it doesn't seem to bother 'em. I think I'm okay."

He warmed up a little under Frida's touch, still a little uncertain how to act around her. Surely his blush was apparent… but Frida did not once look away from the still forming scars on either side of his rib cage where the surgeons entered him to save his life. It was a little haunting to see Manny with injuries like this.

"Frida…"

She stopped and began to pull away, looking up when his hand took her by the wrist. They locked eyes for a moment, which was uncomfortable for both of them. He felt that he should say something… don't stop, keep going, or something to that effect. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Frida, on the other hand, felt it was wrong to continue touching him, not knowing that Zoe was no longer competition for his affection. The tension was broken when she smiled and patted Manny gently on the cheek. He let her arm go so he may touch his face softly, watching her slip under the surface of the water. A smile crossed his face, and despite the tightness of his chest, he started to swim after her.

--

_Police Station, Chief Suarez's District, 4:30 PM_

--

It had all started so nicely… a simple bank robbery just to keep loose. And now where was he? A holding cell. Again. He sat on a bench, scratching his chest absent mindedly as he stared at the floor. He took no notice of the fleas that scrambled from him as he slid his nails across his furry torso, caring in no way about them. All that mattered was that he was in jail. _Again._

"Man… how does this keep happening to me, man?"

--

**Author's Note: **No reason to include Oso, really. I just felt he needed something after his long hiatus. And what better than to put him exactly where he belongs: a cell right after being captured. They never tell you what exactly El Oso feels after being arrested, but I'm sure that before he cracks open the wall and runs off for more chaos, he's a little depressed.

Anyway, it's time for my vacation! *Vacation time, brother! Vacation time, brother! Va-ca-tion!* Enjoy this chapter as much I do. I'll have more once I return from my adventures.


	4. Chapter 4

Vacation's over. It was a good time. Little chilly. Though not as bad as home. It's gotta' be negative 10 out there, easy; and for the love of holy exemplars far and wide, what's the reason for the wind? I'm glad I'm not in it right now, I can tell you that. Anyway, I've been thinking long and hard about how to best do the next few chapters, and I can't honestly say it's been a fruitful experience. But I had a brilliant idea: give the spotlight to M's actual plan. You've seen him emerge from the shadows and strike out at his foes, but how does he plan to take the country by storm? This is how.

--

**Chapter 4, Dinner Party Politics**

--

_M's Command Center, Wednesday, 5:00 PM_

--

A day had passed. For some, tensions had risen. For others, they had decreased. Maxim and his associates were not among those to enjoy relaxation in that time. True, it was hard to imagine how much stress could be garnered in a twenty-four hour period… but Miracle City was a tough nut to crack. And the man wanting to crack it grew more and more impatient, uttering words that would hopefully tip the scales in his favor.

"Good evening… I'm Greg Ma-… damn it."

M stared at his hair in the mirror, jabbing it with his fingers and comb as his dissatisfaction grew. Normally he would have barely given a damn… but tonight? Tonight was important. Tonight was his coming out party, so to speak. Of course, first he had to go through the normal motions. Black hair dye, colored contact lenses, and that awful suit he hated so much. But it was necessary. It was the organizations policy that if the first wave was "unsuccessful," that the second attack would begin. Which wasn't really bad in terms of success rates; if you wanted to destroy a capitalist country's ability to support itself, it stands to reason that you dominate its economy. But lord, this was the most _boring _way to win. He straightened his tie and stared at his reflection, all too familiar with what he saw. M hated disguising himself… that's what he had Nikolai for.

"Good evening… I'm G-."

M was interrupted by the sound of his phone, piercing the room with nothing more than the quiet buzz it generated with each vibration. He instinctively reached for his pocket, forgetting that he was no longer in his work clothes. And like any confounded phone owner, instead of immediately checking his other pair of pants, M looked around on the floor for the source of the noise. He managed to find the phone in the exact place he had left it, barely answering it in time. He would soon wish he had checked the caller ID first.

"M."

"_Where is my daughter?!"_

M paused to remove the phone from his ear. But just because the phone was gone didn't mean he would stop being deaf for a short time. And it certainly wasn't a cue for Carmelita Aves to stop shouting. Judging by the volume and intensity of the blasphemy she was spouting, it was not likely M could say anything to quench her anger. Instead he waited patiently for her to stop, and when she did, he was lucky enough to regain the function of his right ear.

"It's nice to hear from you, too."

"_You said you'd find her!"_

"No, I said I'd keep my eyes open. And to be honest, your daughter has been giving me quite a bit of trouble. I don't know if that should comfort you, but you should know it just the same."

"… _Find her, M."_

He kept the phone to his ear, listening to her slam the receiver on the hook on her end. After peacefully ending the call, M slipped the device into his pocket and continued managing his façade to the fullest extent. It was times like this that he wished he could switch places with Nikolai. Not just for the shape shifting, but for the general absence of bullshit like what just happened. As he hummed absentmindedly, tending to hair and suit, his mind bubbled with complex plans. First and foremost among those was what he would do about the Cuervo problem. He opened the bathroom door after that train of thought reached its final stop, hiding the smirk that wanted so desperately to pollute his stoic face.

"What was that?"

M stopped and turned… and when he saw Black Cuervo leaning against the wall just outside his bathroom, he wasn't sure if he should smile or frown. As that was the case, he did neither; his stare could burn holes in the wall, though.

"An unhappy client… nothing that can't be handled with a little smooth talk," he said, growing dissatisfied as she stared at him, sensing a certain level of bitterness behind her visor. Wait a minute… still dressed for war? "You're supposed to be getting ready."

"Right. What was it I'm supposed to do again?"

"You're going as my new assistant. Why?"

"Because that outfit you sent to my chamber makes me look like a whore."

"According to who? I was assured that that dress was exceedingly tasteful."

"For someone who goes to the prom with the intent of getting undressed, perhaps," she said with a chilling smile. She drew some degree of happiness from narrowed eyes, delighting in seeing him grow frustrated. Finally, she shrugged and started out of the room, boots clicking violently yet eloquently against the floor. "Fine. Give me an hour."

"I gave you an hour an hour ago! You have thirty minutes!"

"Not enough time."

The door was closed before he could retort, leaving him with an open mouth and a head full of angry words. Choking on those words with no outlet, M simply tossed down his uniform and started pacing. Perhaps what he had told Voltura was not a lie.

--

_Aves Residence, 5:04 PM_

--

Carmelita too was pacing, worrying endlessly about one thing and one thing alone. She didn't often say what she felt about her daughter. But then, she didn't really have to. Anyone could see that she felt love for her… and this concern was all over that simple emotion, and the fear that it would be erased. Carmelita paced faster and faster, head filling up with stress and dread and every unwanted thought that came with those things. The phone rang. And within a second of that ring, she was gripping the receiver hard, lifting it to her ear with lightning speed, holding it steady despite her shaky hands.

"Zoe?!"

"… _Uhm… no. Ms. Aves… how satisfied would you say you are with your long dis-?"_

The receiver was dropped back on the hook as Carmelita pushed her back to the wall, staring at the room before her with slowly flooding eyes. And as she slowly slid down the wall, the once hardened villainess had to ponder a few things. Why was she being tortured? Why was she being punished in this way? And what did she have to do to end it?

--

_Rivera Estate, 7:05 PM_

--

Manny watched television miserably as he father sat lounging in his chair, reading romance novels like they had anything interesting or non-cliché in them. Manny had once thumbed through one of those novels, and though he had hit a few spots that made him feel hot under the collar, there was not a chance he'd ever pick another one up. Or so he told himself. What made this TV watching experience awful was really the way his father felt about "violent programming." He didn't raise his son to be an action movie junkie, ignoring the fact that they faced danger on a daily basis. Finally, Manny stopped his channel surfing and decided to suck it up. He hated the emphasis that television placed on being wealthy and famous and such, but hey, at least those people were out living their lives…

"_We're here at Municipal President Rodriguez's annual party at City Hall, and my, would you just look at all the well-to-dos? Actors and wealthy business men from all over the hemisphere… hemisphere's the right word, right? Oh, oh! Who's this?! Who is this…?"_

Manny leaned forward to get a better look at the limousine that pulled up to the red carpet, stopping with the emblem-bearing door in full view. He panicked a little, seeing the letter M centered on the image of a globe. But underneath both was the word enterprises. Enterprises?

"_The studio tells me that Greg Stylex, CEO of Maximum Enterprises has just arrived! … Who?"_

Maximum Enterprises? Manny stood and approached the television, watching with an ever increasing heart rate as a tall man in a black suit with black sunglasses emerged from the front of the vehicle and opened the door, letting his charge out. There he stood, smiling and waving to the clamoring masses, screaming for a reason known only to them. The flashes of cameras near and far seemed to only make him more comfortable. Manny's breathing grew tense, and he could not break his gaze from the man he saw. He looked so much like Maxim… but at the same time he didn't. It was possible, just barely, that the two were not one and the same. Possible enough for Manny to dismiss it.

"Manny, come to the table! Time for dinner."

"Alright dad."

He turned away and headed to the dining room as another familiar face emerged from the limo, gently clutching Mr. Stylex's hand. He just narrowly avoided seeing Zoe Aves on television as his date.

--

_City Hall, 7:20 PM_

--

Clean and well dressed, M led Zoe Aves gently through the throngs of guests in the Hall. Neither seemed too impressed with the sycophants around them, though M made it a point to smile and nod to any that made eye contact. Zoe looked on with disdain, smothering the urge to tear her arm away from M with the desire to complete tonight's mission as soon as possible. Although, she could also distract herself by running a gloved hand down the black fabric of her cocktail dress. Silk feels even more wonderful when you're body is used to choking combat gear. After stroking the clingy dress, she raised her hand and gently adjusted the small bun in her hair, held in place by the glittering purple and silver hummingbird comb that came with the dress. Clutching the small, shiny black purse that completed the ensemble, Zoe fancied again and again what others thought of her. She felt pretty… but still unhappy.

She whispered to him, hissing through her teeth. "Why am _I _doing this?"

"Come now, Zoe. Aren't you glad that I picked the prettiest young woman available to join me at this party?"

"When you put it that way…"

"No?"

"No."

"Yes, well, you know what? You're here. Please, do try to make the best of it."

Zoe almost rolled her eyes, but instead looked across the large, circular room they had just climbed a flight of stairs to reach. Filled to the brim with the wealthy and well-known, she couldn't help but feel a small twinge of nervousness. When M asked her if she was up for a covert mission, and if she could act, she had agreed without much of a thought. But now that she was here… it wasn't the dress that made her not want to go through with this, or the concept that it was stupid. She was worried she'd make a fool of herself. And as they strolled casually into the mass before them, Zoe thought for a moment that this was not going to work. At all. She was torn from her mental wanderings by M's speaking, and she saw before her three older business men.

"Gentlemen. Good to finally meet you all in person."

"Mr. Stylex."

"Please, Bernardo. Call me Greg. I'm sure first names are appropriate at this stage."

"Yes, of course Greg," Zoe watched with a raised eyebrow as the businessman named Bernardo turned to his colleagues, gesturing to M without obviously knowing what was going on in the world today. "Jose, Leo, this is young Mr. Greg Stylex, CEO of Maximum Enterprises."

"Gentlemen. A pleasure to meet you both." M shook their hands one after the other, smiling confidently until he felt Zoe squeeze his arm. He turned his head enough to look at her out of the corner of his eye, then smiled again. "Ah, where are my manners. This, gentlemen, is Zoe Aves, my personal assistant. A very promising young woman."

She allowed each businessman to take her hand gently, curtsying ever so slightly. The one named Leo held her hand a little longer than the others, smirking curiously. "My my, you certainly do recruit early on, don't you Mr. Stylex?"

"Not usually… but Ms. Aves displayed an impressive level of tenacity and adaptability not seen in most of my older employees. She originally joined as an intern, but after proving herself time and time again, how could I say no?"

Zoe stared at Leo as he stared at her, noting that he wasn't making eye contact. Zoe became more aware of her dress's dynamics than before when she surmised he was admiring what was visible of her cleavage, and she extracted her hand from his grip so that she may turn and face M, crossing her arm across her body to grip the other, eclipsing the view. Sensing her discomfort, and possibly her hidden rage, M smiled and clapped his hands once.

"Well, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me. Jose, if I may address you by first name, I do hope that you get back to me soon about the acquisition."

The nod he received was not a happy one, but M smiled just the same, leading Zoe away once again through the crowd. Once they were a safe distance away, Zoe turned her head enough to see Leo continuing to watch her, narrowing her eyes viciously.

"What was that?"

"I'm buying them out."

"What?"

"You didn't know? Miracle City has suddenly become a very bad prospect for investors, what with all the serious crime… good thing I'm bringing fresh money to the table."

"I see," Zoe replied quietly, looking at all the possible victims in this room. How many of them even cared about what was happening to the city? She started to wonder if things could ever get better. "Why do you need me here again?"

"Arm candy, Zoe. I need someone pretty standing next to me to make me appear less creepy. What sort of impression would I make if I was wandering the room by myself?"

"Oh, so you're using me."

"I'd expect the same from you."

This got a smile, but little more. Just the same, M was glad that she was loosening up. After all, the first rule of party-going was to have fun. It felt like an eternity before they reached their target, and M waited patiently for Municipal President Rodriguez to acknowledge him after talking to another guest. The short, pompous fool at first frowned when he looked upon M, though lightened up when his hand was offered.

"Municipal President Rodriguez. Greg Stylex. Again, thank you for the last minute invitation."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Stylex. Thank _you _for the last minute donation. I'm sure our… opera house fund will be successful thanks to your generous contribution."

"Of course," M replied, turning his gaze to the target: Geraldo Maltin, wealthiest drug lord in the Miracle City area. There were rumors that his cartel extended as far south as Brazil, and as far north as Texas. That was a lot of potential junkies. "I'm sorry, but who is your friend?"

"Oh, not at all," Rodriguez said with a smile and friendly gesture. "This is Geraldo Maltin, a personal friend. He also donated to the opera fund."

"Mr. Maltin…"

M extended his hand again, shaking the drug lord's with a strong grip. The man just oozed corruption, though M wondered if he was the only one who could feel it. The white jacket and trousers juxtaposed the black silk shirt he wore under it, insulting the uniformity of the socialites around him. M liked this man, but at the same time couldn't stand him. Deep down, he knew the hatred would win out, because it had something to gain.

"My. Stylex," he said with a thick accent, "I'm… sorry to say, but I don't know much about you or what you do…"

The silence the fell over the group was uncomfortable, and all eyes were on M, who only raised an eyebrow. He smiled before answering. "No need to apologize. Many people are unfamiliar with my company. It's still growing in this part of the world. Now, to put it simply, we're an investment firm."

The fact that that answered nothing did not stop both Maltin and Rodriguez from nodding. The last thing that they wanted was a lengthy economic lecture, which was just the way M wanted it. Lies are hard to feed to people who actually want to know the truth. M glanced at Zoe, who in turn glanced at him. When they locked eyes, M gently gestured towards Maltin's date, a tan young woman wearing a defiant smirk. Zoe smiled and nodded, not once breaking eye contact to acknowledge her. They had been over the plan time and time again before this moment, so she knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Unfortunately, that when didn't come for a while. So instead of fulfilling her mission, Zoe was treated to boring small talk and implications of corruption for some twenty minutes, occasionally glancing at Maltin's date as she sipped on her wine. She smiled when the woman had finally succumbed to her body's needs. The young woman excused herself and departed to the powder room, with Zoe watching her lead the way. She certainly knew her way around City Hall… and as time passed, Zoe kept her path fresh. After a couple minutes, she let go of M's arm.

"Excuse me… I must powder my nose."

Zoe weaved her way through the crowd, scowling a little and doing her best to focus. She had little knowledge of the geography of the building beyond what she had seen, but luckily it was an intuitive layout. She found her way to the ladies room, and once inside, she glanced under the stall walls, seeing only one set of legs. Locking the door behind her, Zoe made her way towards the mirrors, seeing Geraldo Maltin's date applying lipstick. She stood at a sink herself, keeping one sink between them.

"Anyone else in here?" Zoe whispered.

"No."

"… Good. Now, my boss, Mr. Stylex, wants in on your boss's business."

"That's cute," the woman replied, gently laughing as she flicked her hair, admiring herself in the mirror. "Now, why don't you just tell your boss to go f-."

"Wrong answer."

Before the woman could call out, Zoe's hand was on the back of her neck, pushing her against the mirror hard enough to daze her, but little more. Pressing her head down to the sink, Zoe extracted a pen from her small purse and pressed down the top. She pulled away the shoulder strap of the woman's dress and stabbed the pen tip into her shoulder, pressing down on the top again. She gasped a bit, trying to regain her footing, though soon felt very much relaxed from the mild toxin introduced to her system. Her breathing slowed a bit, and that's when Zoe retrieved a small tape recorder from her purse, clicking the record button.

"Now… please do tell me the location of your boss's home. If you do, I'll give you this."

Zoe withdrew one last item from her purse: a small vial containing a substance that looked very much like cocaine. And upon seeing this, the young woman's eyes lit up. Zoe returned to the ball room with a smile on her face, practically humming as she returned to M's side and took his arm. He smiled back at her and continued his conversation, though now Maltin began to look concerned.

"Where's Ivonne?"

"Is that her name?" Zoe responded, letting her smile fade. "I'm afraid I didn't see her… but I didn't really check. Sorry."

--

_Maltin Estate, Thursday, 12:30 AM_

--

"_I was worried you wouldn't need me after all…"_

"_Now now, there's no need to fear. I always have work for lovely ladies."_

"_Oh, you're too naïve."_

"… _I need you to destroy everything and everyone at this location."_

"_Oh… everyone?"_

"_I need an example to be made of them. So, feel free to use your imagination with the display."_

Geraldo Maltin's customized Hummer pulled up the dirt driveway to his less than modest estate, scowling brutally as they went. Ivonne, it seemed, went to the restroom to literally powder her nose. Scandalous was a word for it; how dare she sate her addiction in public? What was worse was that whatever she used was low quality. Nearly five hours, and she was still deathly ill from the side-effects. He had half a mind to dump her out of the car half-way down the road… but the human side of him was attached to her. The Hummer pulled to a stop outside the mansion, and he was the first one out, despite having the men paid to open doors for him. He was much too upset to waste time on that. He took one by the shoulder.

"Take Ivonne up to her room. Keep a watch on her. If it looks like she's dying, get Marco to look at her."

"Yes sir."

Geraldo watched his man take Ivonne into the house, but did not immediately follow, instead gazing at the fountain in the courtyard's center. It always relaxed him, which was good considering the stress of the situation. Once he was calm, Geraldo walked through the open doors of his mansion, nodding to his men as they greeted him. This was always the worst part about the drug business. Using the product was so risky with cocaine. He found his way to his study and sat in the Italian chair behind his desk. He did love all that the business gave him, though. As he sank into the cushions, he let sleep gently overtake his mind, and his stress was even further pushed from his thoughts. But it all came rushing back when the sound of gunfire filled the air, soon followed by the sound of screaming. Geraldo stood quickly and looked out his window. He saw the flickering of the guns shooting, but nothing else, and it was curious that his men were vanishing within the night without return gunfire. He turned when his door was forced open, seeing one of his panicking underlings.

"What's going on?!"

"It's-!"

They were both caught off guard by an explosion behind Geraldo. He fell to the floor as glass and wood showered gently over him, and he pushed himself up off the floor when he heard a brutal cackle. Looking through the gaping hole in his wall, Geraldo Maltin's eyes went wide before a second blast of green energy sliced open a hole in his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

Merry X-mas one and all… and that's about enough of that. It's been a hell of year, hasn't it? And to think, it's only going to get worse next year. Isn't that great? Yeah! Good times!

If you recall chapter 4… yeah, chapter 4, the cartel's leader was attacked by an unknown force. And I am going to have so much fun playing with that ambiguity! Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times!

--

"_This city deserves a new class of criminal… and I'm gonna' give it to 'em." - Heath Ledger as the Joker_

--

**Chapter 5, Dominance**

--

_Maltin Estate, 7:30 AM_

--

An old, slightly beat up green car climbed to the top of a hill as it drove down the lonely country road. As was common in Mexico, it was an old model Volkswagen, humming contentedly as it was driven, despite many years of use. Detective Fitzgerald had many problems, most of which stemmed from being cousins with that blowhard Miguel Duhamel Fitzgerald, but not once in his life did he have a problem with his car. And as long as his old beetle ran, so too did he. He neared a turn off, one normally blocked by a cattle gate and a man with a machine gun, but today marked with a police cruiser, waving the detective down for a moment. Simple protocol: check IDs, and let VIPs through to the scene. Detective Fitzgerald sighed impatiently as the officer verified his identity, finally waving him through. He almost used up his last sick day today… but his colleagues insisted he come. Something bigger than usual, they said. And as he slowed to a stop on the estate grounds, the detective grimaced and sighed once more. He parked between two police cars, exiting slowly and surveying the ruin around him. Craters and scorch marks meant nothing to him… especially compared to the body count. Fitzgerald sought out his ex-partner, who had requested him specifically, not bothering to shield his eyes from the cloud-blocked sun.

"Well Fitz?"

"You were right… this is something big."

"Yep. Care to take the tour?"

"Lead the way, Borges."

"Well," Detective Borges led Fitzgerald to the first batch of bodies, casually strewn about like they were nothing. It was appropriate, really… the detectives didn't know it yet. "These men probably died first… as you can see."

"Not normal tactics…"

"That's right. We had to get a specialist in to figure it out, but it looks like these men were taken down by one enemy. We had no idea how they died at first… coroner said it was 'energy burns'."

"What?"

"Yeah, like plasma or something."

"Interesting…" Fitzgerald began, wandering off down the path, staring down at the dirt, slightly stained with blood. "But you're wrong about one thing."

"Oh? And that is?"

"They were dragged here, Borges. They were killed somewhere else, which means they didn't die first. They were probably killed execution style. Slow execution style, by the looks of it."

"So the bodies were moved here for our benefit?"

"Ours," Fitzgerald turned and looked at Detective Borges with a theory burning in his mind, "or another party's."

"… A warning?"

"Maybe. Show me the rest first."

"Alright… but it only gets worse."

--

_Miracle City High School, 7:34 AM_

--

Frida Suarez was walking slowly, as if she was sad, as she approached the school gates. But the smile she wore… it was warm enough to melt ice. She felt great, and when people saw her feeling great, they couldn't help but get infected with that obnoxious good feeling. Still… she felt a little bad that she was-.

"Hey Frida."

She froze then and there, eyes wide with disbelief, with stress, with the urge to smother with love blending uncontrollably with the urge to punish. Frida turned quickly, arms outstretched to her sides, staring at him.

"Manny?"

He stood smiling, waiting for a hug, or in the worst case, physical retaliation. Either way, he'd probably enjoy the contact. He could use a pick me up.

--

_The Crime Scene, 7:46 AM_

--

"This is…"

Detective Fitzgerald stood solemnly, shaking his head as he looked down the long line of bodies. Each one was strung to a fence pole by the neck, ensuring that they wouldn't be going anywhere as they were slowly clawed to death. And by the looks of it, the claws were razor sharp.

"Coroner says the wounds look like they were made by actual claws, like that of a cougar."

"My god…"

"Come on, Fitz," Borges waved towards the manor, starting off towards it himself. "This last one is… something else."

"I think maybe I should retire soon…"

--

_The School, 7:49 AM_

--

"What? I got somethin' on my face?"

"Manny…"

"Yeah…" Manny replied quietly, giving Frida a calculating look now. "Frida… you've been saying that for a while now. Aren't you gonn-."

"What are you _doing _here?"

"Goin' to school. It's been two weeks… I'm sure all my teachers are lookin' forward to seeing me again."

"Manny this is… you've really been in some sort of mood lately."

"What? You're crazy." Manny nudged her gently and started walking towards the school doors, keeping a broad smile all the while. He stopped at the steps and turned back. "You comin'?"

Frida stood there silently, mouth slightly open and head shaking in disbelief. Finally she shrugged and followed after him. She had to admit something: she already felt better having him back.

--

_The Crime Scene, 7:55 AM_

--

"… Fitz?"

"I'm just… just taking my time."

Fitzgerald had to take a moment to soak this all up, not believing things could get grimmer than before. But seriously… how do you respond to crucifixion? Geraldo Maltin, a well known drug lord, and his lady of week Ivonne… were clearly left to bleed to death on the hastily made crosses. Tied tightly to the wooded constructs, they had little choice but to lament their fate last night. Fitzgerald looked at the wounds on Maltin very carefully… they appeared almost identical to those on the men in the court yard. But something else caught his eye, and he started to bend over; he was, unfortunately, interrupted by Detective Borges.

"Fitz, before you do your thing, would you mind checking this out?"

Growling in frustration, Detective Fitzgerald stood back up and followed Borges to the far wall, far below and just to the right of the large opening where Maltin was attacked. What he saw was… confusing. A large heart burned into the side of the building, surrounding two letters and a plus sign. The letters and plus were carved out by the same claws seen else where, and dried blood filled the grooves.

"C and T… what do you know about this, Borges?"

"Nothing yet. We have to run it when we get back to the station. But it leads us to believe-."

"Believe that there's two perps."

"Yeah… what do you think?"

Fitzgerald smiled and kicked some dust, staring down at the ground on which he stood. "I think you're wrong about that too."

Before Borges could ask what he meant, Detective Fitzgerald was walking down the driveway to the cars. Much like his cousin, the detective was very, very good at his job. Too bad no one else in his family realized that yet.

--

_The School, 8:05 AM_

--

Manny sat in his seat, thinking deep about what had just happened. He felt neither sad nor happy, and as he thought about that, it really didn't make sense to be either of those. Frida's words, both from today and from days ago, echoed in his mind.

"_This is totally irresponsible!"_

She was worried about him… a lot more than usual. He had to wonder if he should chalk that up to him being critically injured, or if it had more to do with that other thing…

"_Don't say it… Long enough."_

Yeah, that other thing. How she felt for him. Manny was still having trouble getting his head around that. You always say it makes sense for friends to make great partners, but do you ever actually believe that? The longer your friend is with you, the more you see them as a family member, or something. And barring the occasional odd thing that happens when you see an attractive cousin, you don't feel things like what Manny was feeling now when you talk about family.

"_Should you be getting these wet?"_

He remembered what he felt when she ran her fingers across his skin, lightly touching the injuries that made him seem mortal. As Manny sat there in class, he raised a hand to his chest and ran his index and middle fingers across the stitches under his shirt. It was a curious feeling, recalling what Frida did to him then and there…

"Now, I know you've had a trying experience, Mr. Rivera," Manny, and perhaps the rest of the class turned their heads and looked to the front. Unlike Manny, the rest of class turned and looked at him immediately after. "But you are back in school now, so do try to pay attention. We have a lot to cover, and you have a great deal of catching up to do."

"Yes ma'am…"

--

_M's Command Center, Meeting Room, 11:39 AM_

--

They had filed in some twenty minutes ago. One by one they surrendered their weapons, leaving their body guards outside with a promise of safety and a threat of destruction should they insist to violate the rules. The men in black patrolling the facility were unsettling enough, but as the gang leaders and cartel heads of the five largest remaining criminal organizations entered the meeting room, they were met with the appearance of a crowd of super villains. How lovely. They took their place at the table, with Miracle City's most famous mobster, Don Baitti, taking his place at the head. But now they grew impatient; though it seemed no one wanted to say anything. They had all heard the news about Maltin… perhaps that was the source of their grim quietude. At the far end of the room stood Voltura and Lady Gobbler, waiting patiently at the large metal door. When they heard the sound of a small elevator behind it, they backed away from the doorway and allowed it to slowly swing open, revealing M himself. He brushed back his hair and stepped out of the elevator quietly, keeping a smirk on his face the whole time. Almost immediately he was confronted, not by his guests, but by Voltura. She stood in his way and whispered to him.

"Where is my daughter?"

"I don't think now is the time for this, Aves. Do you?"

"You're not going anywhere until you give us an answer."

"Where is Zoe?" Lady Gobbler advanced slowly, whispering to him in the same low tone. It seemed their patience too had run out.

"Huh… well, I do have something to tell you about her, but first I must conclude my business. Can I at least do that?"

The silence that followed was chilling, with M staring at his agents, willing them to back down. And though they inevitably did, they didn't enjoy it. Voltura stepped aside without turning, staring hard at the dark wall as M walked past. She felt he was hiding something, keeping a good hand from them until all the chips were bet. And that suspicion made her feel cold.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Welcome to my abode."

With the eyes of the criminals all on him, M couldn't help but smile, just showing his teeth between his lips, eye lids half closing so that only his irises could be seen. How he loved this part… there were few words in his arsenal to describe the feeling. Being the dominant force, the power player, was what he lived for. Don Baitti interrupted his moment.

"Why are we here?"

"Oh good, you're cutting to the chase. Well, my esteemed colleague," M felt the villains around him wilt a little when he said the word colleague. They clearly remembered a time when they were M's "colleagues," and how that time quickly came and went. But they were winning, which is what they wanted. "You're here so I can quickly, concisely, and unarguably deliver an ultimatum."

There was light laughter from the table. Don Baitti, being a veteran criminal, a hardened, villainous mobster, did not at all take this young man seriously. He stroked his thick, white mustache casually, contemplating ending this meeting on a high note.

"That's cute. An ultimatum. Well, that's good, 'cause we got an ultimatum for you."

"Well then, it's a good thing I scheduled this meeting," M replied, smiling defiantly, "now, since you're the guest, do go ahead. I want to hear this."

"Get out of my city, or you'll quickly find yourself without bones." Don Baitti pushed himself away from the table, and with little more than a sound like gently snapping twigs, he was up and suspended from his super-powered mustache. "You think we don't know what you're doin'? I've been at this a long time, kid, and I don't think I'm gonna' bend over for the likes of you!"

"… Not bad. But maybe you should consider mine before we all come to an agreement."

M raised a hand to his ear so he could better hear through his ear piece; the news he received made him smile wider than ever, stretching his pale skin to ghastly dimensions. He turned his gaze to Don Baitti.

"Please, send her in."

Silence again… but this time the assembled gangsters had to fight to keep themselves from looking scared. Not one of them could say why, but they each felt a crushing dread in their hearts, as though some unspeakable evil was making its way toward them. The door through which the criminal assembly came was forced open, and through it came a gust of stifling air, like that which escapes from a long sealed tomb. Placing one boney foot in front of the other, Sartana slowly made her way in.

"Sorry I'm late… personal issues had to be settled."

"Not at all, dear lady. Please, have a seat."

M pulled out a chair at his end of the table, opposite of the slowly descending Don Baitti. Sartana of the Dead took her place there, gently strumming her guitar. She could be heard quietly humming, keeping an eye on her mortal competitors in crime.

"Now that we're all here… Don Baitti, crime lords of Miracle City. This is your one chance, your one choice. You will join with me, and join with Sartana, or you will be obliterated. I won't just kill you. I will scrub your names from every record everywhere. I will kill every friend, every family member, destroy all of your estates. Everything built, everything learned, everything desired… it shall be taken from you."

One crime lord had the intention to get up and attempt something. No one knew what he had in mind, because before he could act, he was frozen in terror as Sartana casually pointed her guitar at his heart, not even breaking from her humming to warn him. And as what M said started to sink in, each person began to realize what was happening to their world. Those with M and those yet to be with him began to understand their role in the new order. Don Baitti sat back in his wheelchair, shaking his head in total disbelief.

"How… how can you do this to us?"

"Don Baitti… what did you expect of war?"


	6. Chapter 6

You've all been so good in 2008 that I think I'm going to reward you with a new chapter! A super chapter, too! It's incredibly awesome, if I may say so myself. And if you disagree, you may say so with a review. In any case, I can choose to disregard your criticism in favor of a flight of fancy caused by chocolates and action movies. It's win freakin' win, baby!

--

**Chapter 6, Hero's Fall**

--

_Miracle City High School, Thursday, 11:50 AM_

--

Manny had been asked to stay after by his teacher when the bell rang, which brought a frown to his face. He was eager to get to lunch so as to sate his hunger and see Frida again. But no, here he stayed. And if he had bothered to pay more attention the first time around, Manny would have learned why.

"Are you listening?"

"Yeah."

"Then what did I just say?" his teacher asked, crossing his arms in utter disbelief.

"… Alright, I wasn't listening."

"Fine, I'll say it again," he began, "but pay attention this time. Your two week absence has left you pretty far behind."

"Yeah, I got that part."

"Good… but I'm going to cut you a break, Mr. Rivera. If you write a five-page paper on the Spanish occupation of Mesoamerica, I'll give you a C for the semester. If it qualifies as an A paper, of course."

"… Oh. I can do that."

"I'm sure you can. Now get to lunch."

Leaving his history class with a faint smile, Manny Rivera thought back a bit. Perhaps he had misjudged his history teacher, Mr. Rio. He couldn't be all bad if he was offering a C for a stupid essay about… what now? The smile immediately disappeared, and Manny turned around and looked in the door again.

"The Spanish occupation of Mesoamerica, Manny."

"Thanks."

Smiling once more, Manny started making his way to the courtyard, sure Frida was already on her way there, or possibly half-way through the lunch line. Him not immediately being at her class door was usually the sign to go ahead without him. Manny found the courtyard to be unusually quiet when he arrived, which was strange because he knew for fact that it wasn't quiet a minute ago. He could hear the bedlam as he walked down the hall. He walked slowly to the line, painfully aware of every set of eyes that followed him. There were rumors… rumors that he had died, or that he had run off to live a life of freedom and crime. There were also rumors concerning a moose, which was strange because, frankly, where would he ever get a moose? He found Frida about two thirds through the line, glancing at people as they stared and whispered. She looked a little concerned… she didn't like that they were looking at him like he had indeed died. As Manny approached his friend, he found that a space had opened up in the line; the student who had previous occupied the spot apparently found somewhere better to be.

"So, uh, do you mind if I take your spot?"

Getting no response, Manny shrugged and took his place in line, right behind Frida. The whispering turned into a hushed din as time limped on, and eventually chaotic, noisy life returned to the courtyard. This allowed Manny to smile, but Frida didn't share his optimism.

"So, Frida, how's your day going?"

"… Not so great, Manny. But thanks for asking."

He was shocked by the coldness of her answer, or perhaps it was that she was acting just altogether strange of late. With a deep sigh, he turned to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Frida, what's wrong? I though you'd be, I dunno', excited to have me back."

She shuffled to the side as the line processed, not responding to him. This made him to a slightly angry place, but he suppressed that in favor of a gentler approach to this growing problem.

"Come on, Frida. Why you givin' me the cold shoulder?"

"… Zoe Aves hasn't been to school in two days, if you count today," she whispered, turning to him with sad eyes, "and three days ago you ran away from the hospital. Three days ago I told you how I feel about… us."

He felt very cold for a moment, but didn't know why just yet. Maybe it was the judging look in her eye, or just the memory of Zoe on the roof of the hospital. He could remember her screaming into the night, and recalled the sound of her weapon firing again and again as her heart tore in half. It was probably a combination of those two things. Manny looked away, not wanting to stare into Frida's eyes if that was what they were going to do to him.

"Now, I don't like Zoe Aves, but I can't help but think that you dumped her because of what I said."

"Frida, I-."

"And I'm just gonna' clear this up now… that's not how I wanted it to be."

He thought for a moment that he should tell her the truth about Zoe being Black Cuervo, and more importantly, helping this new enemy ravage the city. But his honor forbade that. And so, to not allow a vacuum to persist, and to help fix this new rift in their horribly tried relationship, Manny fed Frida a lie.

"Zoe… visited me after you and my family. She broke up with me because…"

He looked at Frida again, sensing her eyes on him. They still seemed so cold, and it made him shiver. It was as if she knew he was lying, and was willing him to stop. But surely he was in too deep to stop. Maybe one day he'd tell her the truth, when all this bullshit is behind them.

"She couldn't stand to see someone she cares about endangering himself all the time. So, yeah, it's over."

"Manny, you know I don't believe that."

"Believe it or not, that's how it is."

Frida looked down at the tray she had accumulated, realizing she had taken a bag of chips and three dessert items. And as she stared, she realized that this was fine; she lost her appetite two hours ago when she first heard the news about Zoe Aves' disappearance. She shook her head and moved on, not wanting to hold the line up further.

--

_M's Command Center, 12:10 PM_

--

Maxim sat back in his chair, gently tapping his fingers together in a very diabolical fashion with absolutely no expression at all, and it drove Voltura insane. She and Lady Gobbler had been sitting, waiting for him to reveal something about Zoe for the past fifteen minutes. And though he made no sign of it, he was reveling in their tension. One of his twisted joys. As she quickly reached critical mass, Voltura opened her mouth to speak, to get M to say something, and was interrupted by his hand.

"Calm down. I found her."

Lady Gobbler took a step forward and raised her scepter. "You lie!"

"I most certainly do not… she was found before the meeting started. And I had her transported here while we were rearranging the dynamics of the underworld."

"And you said nothing about this?!" Voltura advanced on him, laser ready. He didn't flinch in the slightest, sighing and slowly standing up. Every step he took toward her caused Voltura to back up, and she wasn't sure why.

"Disarm yourself. If you want to see your daughter, that is."

That left both Voltura and Lady Gobbler with expressions of fear. He was… using her as leverage? That was uncharacteristic of an ally, even one like M. On the reverse, if you thought about it, it certainly made sense for him to be playing a stacked deck. He was very, very good at that. Wanting to see her baby again, Voltura lowered her laser, glaring at M as he stood calm and silent.

"Very good. I'm sorry about threatening you. The Flock of Fury is actually my favorite group to employ, which is why I invested so heavily in Black Cuervo."

"What are you talking about?"

"Cuervo," he said with a hand over his ear, "would you please join us in the control room?"

Voltura turned to the large sliding door behind her, the only entrance to the control room, the only way her baby would come in and see her. The silence was crushing, cold, and bitter… and through the absence of noise and the steel door, they could hear harsh footsteps making their way across the floor on the other side. The crunch of the door sliding on its rail shattered the silence, and light flooded into the fairly dark room. Through it came a form that looked very much like Black Cuervo, but knowing who M had working for him, Voltura had her doubts. And once the door closed again, she was not anymore able to confirm or deny her daughter's presence, having been temporarily blinded by the light beyond the door. This blindness was exacerbated by M's turning off his computer monitors, much as he did when Zoe was last in this room. His footsteps could be heard distinctly as he made his way to the light switch, bringing illumination to that one place in the room where M had built his new lieutenant. Voltura and Lady Gobbler stood on the very edge of the light zone, staring into the darkness beyond it, just barely seeing Cuervo's helmet reflecting the ambient light. And out of the darkness, he beckoned her.

"Cuervo… please step into the light where we can see you."

"Yes sir."

That was unsettling… but not quite as much as Cuervo slowly stepping into the light as M requested. The tension was incredible, and met immediate, jaw-dropping, hope-crushing release when the light fell upon Cuervo's form. Voltura backed up a step when she looked at her daughter's helmet, seeing the red paint upon spelling out her new allegiance.

"Z… Zoe?"

"Who?" she asked coldly, barely turning her head to her mother in a mocking manner. Her smile was obvious behind her purple visor.

"Mija?"

Lady Gobbler now approached Cuervo slowly, not fully understanding what was happening here. As she grew close, Cuervo's fists tightened, and she started to become uncomfortable, looking into the dark beyond for a sign from M. He delivered, not wanting his lieutenant to suffer from a slide back into her less useful human form.

"I hate to interrupt this… but I nee Black Cuervo right now. We must seize this opportunity to defeat El Tigre and take the city in one swoop."

"No," Voltura turned on M, both lasers raise this time, "you tell me what you did to my daughter!"

She was caught very off guard by a shout from Lady Gobbler and the sound of a laser charging up behind her. Cuervo had drawn her weapon and pointed it at her mother. The purple energy grew stronger as the weapon charged, causing the light fixture to dim slightly. The power amplifier was clearly working.

"All in due time, Voltura… all in due time. But what I want you to do now is leave. And I want you and Lady Gobbler to remain underground until I see fit. You have officially been phased out."

"Disarm yourself, Voltura."

Turning to look at her daughter, Carmelita Aves had to fight to keep herself from breaking down, from simply letting her self fail. And not being willing to harm her only daughter, she complied, reducing her weapon charge to zero and dropping the lasers to the floor.

"Zoe…"

"Now, ladies, if you would please step out. Cuervo and I have business to discuss."

Without a word of rebellion, Voltura was led out by M's men in black, who had opened the door on cue and entered the room slowly and emotionlessly. Lady Gobbler was a little less quiet, screaming blasphemy at all volumes as she was essentially dragged from the room. They were led to a back room where they removed their gear in favor of civilian garb. They were taken to a black van and place inside of it with all of their super villain gear in large duffle bags. And as Carmelita and Grandmami Aves sat in the back of the van, quietly letting the men in black take them home, Carmelita let a single tear slide down her cheek. M, meanwhile, had turned off the spotlight of sorts and restored power to his computer screens, standing before them in a manner that made his silhouette even more imposing. Out of the darkness came Black Cuervo, standing at his side. She broke the silence with little more than a throat clearing cough. He responded.

"I'm sorry about that. I know it was… hard for you to see them."

"It's fine… what's the business?"

"That a girl," with a wicked smile curling his lips, M touched a few keys and a window opened on one of the screens, containing a phone number and the words dialing now. "What say we give our friend General Fitzgerald a call?"

--

_Rivera Estate, 3:30 PM_

--

Despite his requests to the contrary, Frida had decided to walk home alone today. She said that she needed some time to herself for that thing… what was it, thinking? Anyway, he had surrendered to the notion of, therefore, walking _himself_ home as well. And it left him feeling a little empty. But now that he was home, he felt better. It being Grandpapi's day to watch him, Manny had decided today would be perfect to go back to school. He passed behind Grandpapi as he proceeded to rummage through the fridge, seeking out an afternoon morsel to quiet his hunger.

"Hey Grandpapi."

"Hola Manny. How was escuela?"

"Meh. You know how it is."

"And how was Frida?"

Manny didn't answer, instead just standing and staring at the light fixture in the ceiling. His thoughts abandoned him as he began to wonder about Frida's condition; soon all he was thinking about was how Frida had looked at him at lunch today. It was… crippling.

"Manny?"

"She's still having trouble with the whole me being injured thing…"

"That's too bad. Can you go turn on the TV for me?"

"Sure."

Making his way to the television, Manny found he couldn't see the remote right away. If he were younger, he'd waste energy looking for it in order to turn the thing on. But, having figured out the game long ago, he instead just pushed the power button on the set and planned on walking away. That plan was spoiled by the sight of smoke out in the city somewhere. Again, if he was younger, he'd pay no attention to this. But he paused and stared, and when he heard those magic words on the television…

"_We interrupt this broadcast for this emergency news."_

Manny turned from the window and looked at the TV, seeing the field reporter struggling with a tide of people. Soldiers and police officers were running about, and every now and then an explosion would roar over the din of the crowd, which would cause Manny to look out the window and see new clouds of smoke.

"_We have received reports that Black Cuervo, recently reequipped, it seems, is attacking military and police vehicles on a chaotic path through the city! The authorities are having great difficulty keeping up with her!"_

The roar of El Tigre's transformation caught Grandpapi's attention, but he was unable to drop everything in time and stop his grandson from bursting into the world, eager to do more hero work. Staring out the window, he only caught the occasional glimpse of El Tigre leaping across the rooftops. This was not a good thing.

--

_Center of the City, 3:45 PM_

--

The streets were alive with panicking civilians and fire. And as she watched this dance, Black Cuervo smiled in dark triumph, quietly hovering high above with her newer, more efficient jet pack. But as she watched the havoc in her wake, letting minute after minute pass, she grew upset with the apparent failing of this plan.

"It's not working… he's not going to show."

"_He'll show. You just keep destroying things, and he'll show up."_

Cuervo deployed her arm laser and charged it, pointing it at one target, then moving to another before firing. She picked four targets and began moving her weapon from one to the other while reciting a childish rhyme. She opened fire upon an already overturned car, causing its fuel tank to explode and belch fresh smoke into the air. She smiled then, because as she looked up, she saw him running across roof tops, clearly seeking her out.

"Well well, you were right."

"_Of course. He's a hero, after all. Proceed with the plan."_

"Yes sir."

El Tigre stopped running when Cuervo descended until she was level with him. She hovered over the street while he stood on the closest building, and for a time, they just stared at one another. He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes while she just maintained her gaze. Cuervo spoke, using a cute tone that reminded him of the days when they were still in middle school.

"You're late, Tigre."

"You got a lot of nerve pulling something like this!"

"Aww, don't be mad, Tigre. I only did it to get your attention. Come on. How about a nice game of tag?"

Without warning, Cuervo turned her laser on him and fired, causing the mortar in front of him to burst. Tigre leaped back reflexively, only barely paining himself in the process. When the dust cleared, and Cuervo was clearly no longer in front of him, he let himself smile. It did feel good to be playing the game again. Tigre spied his target across the street and over a couple of buildings, hovering in a mocking fashion. He started running and leaped hard, clearing the four lane street below and landing firmly on the building opposite his launching point. Checking again, he saw Black Cuervo hadn't moved at all. But when he started running toward her, she took off to another building. What sick game was _she _playing? This proceeded for what seemed like miles; the bird flew, and the cat gave chase. Finally, Cuervo stopped, hovering over a building about two stories high. Tigre landed on the same building, taking short breaths to compensate for his injury. This wasn't fun anymore… but at least she stopped moving.

"Finally… now, face the wr-!"

Tigre was interrupted by Black Cuervo diving down hard on him, plunging her fist into the roof where he stood. The gauntlet emitted a burst of purple light, much like her laser, and the mortar beneath her fist cracked and gave way. She stood unharmed and aimed her laser at him, firing a weak burst at him. El Tigre was hit squarely in the chest, but was not terribly injured. He found that to be both strange and understandable… which slowed him down a bit. How can something be both at the same moment? While he reeled from the shot and pondered that, Cuervo, all the while smiling grimly, kept her eyes on him and her ears open. Finally, she got was she needed.

"_Alright. Move!"_

Without a thought to the contrary, Cuervo had her jets fired up and launched herself into the air. About two seconds after that, the door leading into the building burst open, and through it came three soldiers armed with semi-automatic rifles, followed by General Fitzgerald. The soldiers aimed their rifles and fired while Fitzgerald shot his handgun blindly at the quickly escaping Black Cuervo. Tigre stood, breathing heavily but stably, and made his way slowly to the general.

"General Fitzgerald…"

"El Tigre. It's good to see you alive, my young friend."

"Spare me. Tell me, general… what happened to the attack on New Alamo? I thought it was supposed to be a sure thing."

"I'm so sorry, my young friend," Fitzgerald bowed his head in shame, placing his all but spent handgun in its holster. "My lieutenant told me everything. Had I known that the enemy would be so dastardly, I would have set aside more troops to send in."

Tigre only shook his head, turning and facing the city. The plumes of smoke began to fade as fire crews took control of the various blazes, previously impossible with Cuervo destroying vehicles with impunity. It finally dawned on him…

"Why aren't there any helicopters?"

"Because I didn't order any into the air."

The sound of claws shredding into flesh filled the air, followed by the death gasps of three soldiers falling to the roof dead. El Tigre spun hard and saw Nikolai wipe his bloodstained hands on a rag he procured from his back pocket, casting it down onto the bodies.

"You!"

"Yes, me…"

"You're that thing that was pretending to be Zoe! You work for him!"

"Wow, way to be concise."

When Tigre stared angrily at Nikolai, slowly shifting his shape to mirror his foe's, Nikolai took the opportunity to insult his enemy's intelligence.

"Concise means to get to the point."

"I know what it means! So, was the general even real?"

"Well, yes. For the first couple of days that he was in charge. By the way, I'm looking forward to ripping you apart. I haven't forgotten what you did to me at New Alamo."

Nikolai showed off his mimicked claws, completing the transformation at his own leisure to put the fear of god into El Tigre. But he didn't feel it. It wasn't a perfect mimic; Nikolai was unable to compensate for the belt he wore, which held the military equipment he was required to wear. Glad to still possess a steeled resolve, Tigre leaped forward and swiped at his enemy. Having the advantage of bearing better healed injuries, Nikolai evaded the attack, and instead of returned a slash, he simply chopped at Tigre's chest, at about the spot where he was stitched up. This caused him to yelp and back up several steps, clutching the injury with one hand while keeping his claws trained on the shape shifter with the other.

"Enjoy the cheap shots while you can… 'cause this is gonna' turn around real fast!"

--

_Skies of Miracle City_

--

Grandpapi had taken on his Loco mech in an effort to track Manny down, flying high above the city toward the source of the smoke. He was upset with his slow response, wondering if perhaps he was getting too old to be of any use anymore. And while he dwelled on that indecision, he was struck by a fast moving Black Cuervo, who cracked the very hard bubble that protected Grandpapi inside. His trajectory was severely thrown off, and Cuervo planted her feet on the mech as it proceeded to fly toward the volcano. Looking up to see her, Puma Loco growled and twisted the levers on his control panel, causing the mech to spin. Cuervo jumped off and flew up, which allowed Grandpapi to stabilize. He turned his suit and faced the hovering villain, waiting for her to make a move.

"Hello, Puma. How nice to see you again. How have you been?"

"Where is Manny!"

"He's busy. But I'll keep you company!"

She aimed her laser and fired; the burst as the powered up shot struck his chassis caused his mech to spin in the air a bit, and she took that opportunity to charge forward again.

--

_The Rooftop_

--

They had pushed each other to a standstill, both bearing injuries worthy of noting. But there was something strange… all of Tigre's injuries were caused by closed fists. Bruises and a split lip surely hurt, but wouldn't those razor sharp claws be more effective? In stark comparison, Nikolai had collected slices across his arms and back. Breaking the pace of battle, the shape shifter lifted a hand to his ear, then nodded, speaking in a thick Russian accent.

"It's time to end this, little man."

Nikolai rushed forward, swinging his freshly extended claws wildly in a pitiful attempt to injure El Tigre, who "nimbly" avoided every attack. After a short while, Tigre started to counter his attacks, pressing him to the edge of the building. Sensing his defeat was at hand, Nikolai raised a clawed hand and started to bring it down, though gasped loudly when Tigre slashed across his chest in an X pattern. Letting his arms drop, Nikolai fell to his knees injured, allowing Tigre to back away panting. A sense of dread filled the young hero as Nikolai slowly stood again, laughing madly.

"Oh come on! What do I have to do to kill you?"

"Oh, but Tigre," Nikolai said slyly as he took on the general's shape again, bearing all the obvious injuries, "you _have _killed me."

El Tigre panicked and looked over the side of the building, seeing soldiers running across the street in an effort to regain some control over the situation. It all became clear to him; this was another one of M's damned traps. He rushed forward in an attempt to seize Nikolai, to stop this madness, but was too late. The assassin dressed as the general slipped out of his fingers and fell into the ally below, landing hard on a pile of trash bags below. The fall surely would have killed him if not for that. A soldier across the street, having seen this, rushed toward his general.

"The general is down, I repeat, the general is down! We need an ambulance! Lieutenant Guiterre! General Fitzgerald is critically injured!"

Peering over the edge of the building into the alley, Manny watched with ever intensifying panic. His breathing grew harsh, his heart raced like never before, and for the first time all week he was genuinely afraid. Something awful was about to happen.


	7. Chapter 7

You really liked that last chapter. Yes, it was wonderful. I don't normally take this much pride in my work, especially since it was so cliché. Seriously. I had a shape shifter masquerading as a military leader. Surely you all will see this coming, I said. But it seems you didn't. And it gets better. Acosta is right; read his review and see.

--

"_And our weather report from Hell… bit of a cold front moving in."_

_- Unknown_

--

**Chapter 7, Assassin**

--

_Skies of Miracle City, 4:17 PM_

--

Puma Loco was spiraling out of control for a time, having been hit hard by Black Cuervo's boosted laser again and again. Though he would not admit it to himself, and probably anybody else, he was loosing this battle, which struck him as odd. It was rare that a battle with a Flock member was this one-sided. He landed his mech hard on a nearby rooftop, and once stable, Puma looked through his cracked windshield and growled. She was laughing at him.

"Poor Puma… getting a little too old for this? Don't worry, it'll be over soo-."

"_It's done."_

"What?"

She had been interrupted? This drew the old man's attention, though he dared not attack; this may prove informative. She was looking back toward the sector of the city she had appeared from, which made Grandpapi think for just a moment that maybe…

"Manny?"

"So you just want me to leave this unfinished?"

"_I'll let you scrap him later. Right now, I need you back here."_

"Roger that. Bye bye, Puma. Say goodbye to Manny for me!"

She flew off with a cackle, cutting through the air in the volcano's direction. Never the type to give chase, Grandpapi looked in the direction of the fading smoke, the general area that Cuervo was just gazing at. What she said stuck with him, making him cold inside. So he had no problem with firing up his jets and flying that way in search of his grandson.

--

_The Rooftop, 4:17 PM_

--

He watched silently, though his body was anything but quiet; with each hard breath, Tigre filled his ears with the sound of his raspy voice and his own erratic heartbeat. His skin felt so hot, and he could feel sweat coming out of ever pore in his skin. The cold sweat seemed to put him under immense pressure, for he couldn't move. And though he could not hear the shouting soldiers below, he knew he should probably run away, but he didn't, he couldn't. He happened to turn his gaze toward the ambulance that pulled in below, followed closely by a dull green jeep. Out of the jeep came another familiar face: Lieutenant Gutierre. The lieutenant forced his way toward Fitzgerald, who was just now being visited by the paramedics.

"General! What happened?"

"Gutierre… El Tigre…"

"What?"

"Up top," the general forced a gesture to the building directly in front of him as the paramedics moved him onto a stretcher, starting to bring him to the ambulance. "You have to catch him!"

"Yes sir."

The lieutenant tried to climb into the vehicle, but was stopped by Fitzgerald before he could. He looked at his general with sad, questioning eyes, almost begging him to be allowed inside.

"Gutierre, you have to stay…"

"Sir?"

"You are in charge now… understand me, lieutenant? You are in charge…"

"… Yes sir. Private, go with him. I want him under your watch the whole time."

The nameless soldier who had found the general in the alley nodded and climbed into the vehicle, struggling to keep his equipment from hindering the busy paramedics. The lieutenant, meanwhile, could only watch as the doors were shut and the ambulance sped away, lights flashing and siren wailing. After a moment of crushing silence in which Gutierre could only here a dull whistling sound, he turned to the rooftop angrily.

"Find El Tigre! Catch him!"

This got Mr. Rivera's attention… though he could still find it impossible to move. Even as the soldiers poured into the building, he didn't budge. But he heard a sound that made him tilt his head back, looking up toward the sun. Lucky for him, a huge, slowly descending mech was blocking out the golden star's light, permitting Tigre to keep his eyesight. When Puma Loco landed, he slid his windshield back.

"Manny! Get inside!"

The door from the stairwell burst open for the second time that day, and several soldiers rushed out onto the roof, immediately taking aim. Not wasting another second, Tigre jumped into the suit. He and his grandfather escaped through a wave of bullets, disappearing from sight. Lieutenant Gutierre joined his troops just in time to see the target escape. He growled angrily and started back down toward the street.

--

_The Ambulance, 4:26 PM_

--

"Is the general alright?"

The paramedics busied themselves with bandaging the many claw wounds on Fitzgerald's body, barely acknowledging the soldier's question, much less the soldier himself. He waited patiently for the answer, trained long and hard by the government to be obedient. Despite his patience, he found it necessary to ask again.

"Is he alright?"

"Yes, he'll be fine."

"What? But his injuries-."

"Copy that, command," the driver said, though the soldier clearly remembered not hearing the ambulance radio being used. Furthermore, since when does an ambulance driver refer to the hospital as command? The driver said something else that was troubling. "Is the double ready?"

"What's going on?"

The soldier was met with a gun to the face, held by none other than General Fitzgerald. He was leaning up toward the soldier with a heavily bandaged chest, a grim look plastered all over his face. When he spoke, it wasn't with the general's voice.

"Don't move, don't make a sound."

The ambulance pulled into an alley in a rather filthy part of town, populated by the poor and controlled by, until recently, the drug lords and mobsters of Miracle City. The ambulance doors opened, and the soldier was met by several of M's men in black, who all held handguns with silencers to the poor young man. He exited the vehicle with his hands up, allowing the paramedics to seize his weapon. Nikolai emerged from the ambulance next, stretching gently and wincing every now and then.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Da… the double _is _ready?"

"Yes sir. What should we do with the soldier?"

Nikolai walked around the side of the ambulance without answering; not a good sign. Closing his eyes without a sound, he was ripped apart by several quiet bullets, backing up against and wall and sliding down slowly. Two men in black dragged the bleeding soldier away while the others helped the paramedics move a rather awkward package into the back of the ambulance. Taking on the shape of the now dead soldier, Nikolai returned and looked at the subject: a perfect mannequin resembling General Fitzgerald, made from polymers that perfectly resembled organic tissue. And filled with real blood? Surely this couldn't be in the budget. This should draw attention away from M long enough to seize the city.

"I'll put the finishing touches on him on the way to the hospital. We're done here."

The doors were shut, the engine was started, and the ambulance backed out of the alley. Anybody who could have seen something didn't, and nobody was any the wiser. It was a good day to be on team evil.

--

_Rivera Estate, 4:28 PM_

--

They practically crash landed at the estate; it was only with expert manipulation that Puma Loco managed to not land head first on the patio, though the furniture that decorated it was destroyed by his suit's sloppy movements. Once its feet were on the ground, the windshield was opened and Manny jumped out, losing his Tigre powers in the process. Grandpapi too returned to civilian dress, hurriedly pushing Manny into the house.

"Come on! We have to get ready!"

"For what?"

The sound of sirens far below confirmed Grandpapi's fears. Something bad had certainly happened under his watch, and as such, he was working hard to fix the problem. Manny would have to leave for while until all of this was cleared up. But the matter of where came to mind… in the event of capture, he'd have to be somewhere where extraditing him would be difficult. And while Grandpapi pondered this, there came a hard knocking at the door. They remained silent, unsure what the next move should be, until there was a voice to go with the knocking.

"Rivera! Open the door or I'll kick it in!"

"Great," Manny sighed, dropping his shoulders in despair, "Chief Suarez."

Before anyone could reach the entrance, Chief Suarez decided to keep his promise, and the door was forced open with a powerful kick. Suarez came stomping in, which was imposing in and of itself, though Manny did notice one other thing.

"Where are the other police officers?"

"I had them wait downstairs. I wanted to do _this _alone."

"Fine, but before you haul me off like you always wanted, can I at least explain myself?"

There were explanations for murdering high ranking officials? Now, as nonsensical as this was, Emiliano did recall one thing: that Manny Rivera had never done anything like this before. And part of righteousness was equality.

"Very well. What is your side of the story, Tigre?"

--

_M's Command Center, 4:37 PM_

--

Watching his computer screen with a devious smile, Maxim hummed idly as the news broadcast just got better and better. Normally plans don't come together so well; Miracle City must have just been on the edge with the whole El Tigre argument. Is he good? Is he evil? Well, television like this… it just makes deciding so much easier for people. Maxim thought about running for president should this whole villain thing fall through.

"_We are in front of Casa del Macho, where El Tigre and Puma Loco are engaged with an exchange with the police. The military is sending spare units to help stabilize the situation, but at the moment, Police Chief Emiliano Suarez is inside attempting to apprehend-."_

An explosion rattled the camera man, who could be heard shouting as he struggled to regain control of his heavy equipment. Chaos erupted on the street as a small amount of rubble fell from the estate above and the police officers began firing their ineffective weapons at something off screen. Once the reporter had regained his composure, he pointed to the source of the bedlam.

"_What is that? Get the camera on it!"_

Maxim leaned forward when he saw the great black mass come into focus, and his smile faded. It looked a lot like Puma Loco's mech, if it was designed to be a war machine and painted black. Apparently the Riveras were going to make their get away in this behemoth; what was strange was that it wasn't firing back, simply flying off in another direction.

"_The police are apparently giving chase! Get in the van! Come on!"_

He tapped his fingers on his keyboard warily, replaying the footage again and again in an attempt to clarify something. What he saw didn't seem quite right… but zooming in did nothing for him. He couldn't see through the tinted windshield. Why would Puma Loco just run, though? Well, there could be any number of reasons. They were already in a great deal of trouble, so making it worse by killing police officers on national television was probably not high on the list of things to do right now. But still, what was the purpose of the battle mech? A thought occurred to Maxim then, and he rewound the footage further, playing it back before the explosion.

"… _to help stabilize the situation, but at the moment, Police Chief Emiliano Suarez…"_

And stop. He frowned in thought, trying to recall the name Suarez. He knew he was supposed to know that name, and for the life of him Maxim could not figure out how something important could have slipped his mind. But that's where the computer came in handy. Going to another screen, he entered in the name Emiliano Suarez… and what he saw brought the smile back to his lips.

--

_Rivera Estate, 4:40 PM_

--

Grandpapi watched with tearing eyes as his prototype super-mech flew into the distance, driven by its auto-pilot to simply leave Miracle City. It would probably be the last time he'd ever see the very expensive piece of machinery. Emiliano Suarez, meanwhile, watched it with subdued anxiety as Manny went about packing whatever he could afford to grab and stuff into his suitcase. Chief Suarez was nervous about this more than he could ever believe.

"I can't believe I'm about to help a fugitive…"

"Hey, you said you were cool with this," Manny called out as he returned with his suitcase.

Emiliano continued to stare out into the afternoon sky, no longer looking at the rogue mech playing the decoy. He really thought his police officers were smarter than that, but today was just proving to be a big day for disappointment. His gaze turned to the street below, where a man in a gray suit coat and a red and gold mask was seen running into the building.

"Your father is home…"

"What?! Aw man… this is gonna' suck."

"It'll be fine. I'll explain what you told me, but with better words."

That seemed a lot more daunting a task now that he said it aloud; it was a very complex story, if you thought about it. Emiliano practiced his exact words over and over again, and each time they seemed to make less sense, even though he believed every one of them. At this stage, he was willing to accept that a doppelganger pretending to be General Fitzgerald had staged an attempt on his own life by trying to kill El Tigre. After all, the words of Dr. Chipotle Jr. were still fresh in his mind: I do not trust General Fitzgerald. It now seemed possible, if not probable, that M was indeed pulling the strings of his beloved city. The people just didn't know it yet. Through the open door came Rodolfo, charging in with impressive speed. He stopped by the gaping hole in the side of the building, where Grandpapi sat whimpering and Police Chief Suarez stood tall and silent. This was… different.

"What's going on here? The news said horrible things!"

"Rodolfo, calm down. I think we need to have a chat."

"Chief Suarez… is it true?"

After telling his speech, Emiliano sat patiently at his end of the kitchen table. In five minutes, he had concisely said everything that Manny had told him, but Rodolfo, for one reason or another, refused to accept many things. Each doubt he had needed to be explained away, which dragged the whole ordeal out further and further. It wasn't that he didn't believe in his son's virtue… but how could the city have gotten so corrupted that a foreigner could just walk in and put them all in a corner? When did Miracle City become so broken down that a plot like this could go unnoticed? Complacency, it seemed, found its way even into the minds of Miracle City's defenders. After much argumentation, pacing, and words spoken in anger, Rodolfo sat down and with a single question accepted the harsh reality.

"… What do we do now?"

"Manny Rivera needs to disappear for a while."

"Great! I'm all packed, let's go!"

"Manny, go to your room."

While he didn't follow the order, Manny took the cue and remained silent for the duration. His father closed his eyes and took a cleansing breath, letting it out slowly in the form of a gentle hiss.

"If he runs, he'll remain a criminal."

"If he stays," Emiliano immediately answered, "M will destroy him."

"Where can he go that M cannot reach him?"

"I have a friend in Peru," Grandpapi chimed in, sitting far off in Rodolfo's recliner, "the three of us can lay low with him for a while."

"That arms dealer friend of yours? He's still in business?"

"… You have no evidence."

"You cannot go with your son, Rodolfo."

"What?!"

It was Manny who had questioned this, and with good reason. Now more than ever he needed his father, but he ignored the logic behind Chief Suarez's statement. Someone else needed him more, or rather, something else.

"You are the only Rivera that the city doesn't want strung up. You are the last pillar of justice available, and we need you here. White Pantera can't leave with Miracle City perched on the edge of the knife."

Rodolfo acquiesced… but Manny did not. He grew even more furious that there was any sort of reasoning to be paired with this separation. And as he fumed, he approached the table, mouth open to voice his objection. Rodolfo held up his hand to stop the rebuttal before it reached fruition.

"He's right, mijo. My place is here while you and Papi are away. Chief Suarez and I will try to straighten things out."

Anger melted into sentimental sadness, and Manny turned his head away to hide the tears that tried to force their way out. He couldn't very well show weakness when everyone around him was being strong, could he? Well, he could, but that wouldn't resonate well. His father stood and pulled his mask off, patting Manny on the head with a knowing smile.

"It's alright, mijo. Papi will look out for you. Besides, someone has to be here for your mother."

"… Alright dad."

Manny turned his gaze to the floor, staring at his father's feet for a moment before closing his eyes and stifling a whimper. Rodolfo pulled him into a hug, trying to comfort him in these most trying of times. Manny found one last sentence in his throat, and quietly spoke it in case his father wasn't already aware of it.

"Take care of everyone…"


	8. Chapter 8

I'd laugh evilly if I wasn't already bored with doing so. Not only have I bested my small case of writer's block, I've managed to once again prove my worth by producing two delicious salsas! Quake before my obvious spice-related knowledge! But seriously… the salsa made with pre-cut stewed tomatoes turned out _far _better than the pico. Don't get me wrong, good pico is amazing, but the saucy quality of the former allows it to completely out-compete the latter.

With that said, let's discuss some things. 1) In case there is confusion regarding Puma Loco's distracting the police/military with the large mech, it is really just the same one seen in Animales. Cute episode. So yeah, he still has his hat. 2) I don't actually know if the San Martin region of Peru (there _is _an accent over the 'i') has problems with weapons dealers. 3) If you see Tom Hanks walking down the street, please, just let him be.

**Author's Special Note: **Various and sundry mean the same thing. Go figure.

--

**Chapter 8, And with him gone…**

--

_Somewhere over South America, Saturday, 11:33 AM_

--

The sound of the plane. That was all Manny had heard for the past three hours. The rattling of the shoddy air craft, the relentless buzz of its engines, and the occasional bang of shifting cargo. It was noise like that that kept him from sleeping this whole time. That and his dread. Damn that dread… he could hardly sleep at all yesterday after they had passed from the Mexican border. Fear was following him; he feared once more for his friends and family, who he felt now he had betrayed and abandoned. Miracle City was not in safe hands… that is what M had taught him. Those who were supposed to protect the city from hostilities like this didn't just fail to contain it like they usually did. They didn't even see this coming. Did they even try? With a loud yawn and painful stretch, Manny peeled himself off the decaying sheepskin seat just in front of the cargo bay. He slipped his hands into his pockets, trying to force away the stinging numbness brought on by the cold air in the screaming metal deathtrap he found himself in. Found himself… like he didn't want to get on this thing. Well, he didn't, but at the same time he knew he had to. Chief Suarez said that Manny couldn't risk implicating his father in this affair; he was the only Rivera left. And that thought made Manny feel even more withdrawn. Had he doomed his father anyway? Didn't M want El Tigre out of the picture in the first place? He gave him that chance, after all…

"Thinkin' hard, mijo?"

Grandpapi… at least he was here. Manny couldn't think about how awful this would all be if he had to do it alone without risking shedding tears. And he fought hard to suppress those feelings this very moment, as a wandering mind is hard to contain. It visits unpleasant thoughts almost on impulse, like a tongue that's found a cut on the roof of your mouth. Grandpapi sat opposite of him, sombrero drawn low over his eyes as though he had been sleeping. Seems the old man was also troubled, and like Manny just chose not to discuss it. Well, some problems don't go away just by talking, anyway.

"Are we almost there?"

"Not sure…"

"I'll go ask 'em."

Manny stumbled as the plane turned, pressing his hand against the nearest wall just in time to avoid cracking his head on it. Once it was level again, he walked slowly across the messy floor, laden with various and sundry items. These smugglers were certainly in need of a woman's touch. Once he had more or less forced his way to the cockpit, Manny leaned in much as he had done but two hours before and spoke to the would-be pilots.

"Hey. How much further?"

"Not much farther, Rivera," the pilot turned when he spoke, staring at him with piercing blue eyes and a paralyzing smile. Manny was stricken with terror.

"M?!"

"Looks like someone needed you, Tigre… and you weren't there. How sad."

M pointed to the copilot's seat, where Manny, to his horror, saw his dear sweet Frida bleeding to death, coughing up more and more blood as life slipped away. As he felt the hand of the enemy upon him, his heart jolted, and with it his body. He awoke in a cold sweat, exacerbated by the cold air. Manny's breathing was intense; he leaned his head against the metal wall of the plane in an effort to soothe the fever that gripped him.

"'Nother bad dream, mijo?"

"Yeah, Grandpapi," Manny replied, pressing his forehead against the cold aluminum, savoring the chill, "another bad dream."

The plane turned to the left a bit, descending just enough so that the two passengers could feel the change in direction. Some of the cargo behind them slid across the floor, held in place by the large nets designed specifically for that purpose. The plane tilted back to the right, so that only the tilt forward was felt, and one of the smugglers was on the intercom.

"_Alright boys. We're gonna' land in San Martin soon. It'll be bumpy, so I hope you're buckled up."_

As promised, the plane quickly dipped down toward the earth, taking Manny a bit by surprise; he'd never really been on a plane like this one, enjoying only easy landings whenever he found himself in a jet. Smugglers were only as gentle as the cargo needed. Efficiency first. After "enjoying" the descent, Manny looked out the smudged window to the see the Peruvian country side whisk by. Green and brown… already it was different from Miracle City. Two whole colors different. The landing gear hit the dirt runway hard, rattling the old plane to the core. And though neither would later admit, Manny and Grandpapi clutched hard on the arm rests of their questionable seats as though they would stop the passengers from flying about. But the rattling stopped, and eventually so too did the plane. And without missing a beat, the pilot was on again.

"_Please remain seated until the plane has stopped and the door is open. Have a nice day."_

--

_M's Command Center, 10: 40 AM, Same day_

--

Instead of his usual place at his controls, Maxim was on the roof, bathing in the glorious sunlight and rare quiet of Miracle City. How bizarre… things should be more chaotic than ever, and here the city was as far from noisy as was capable for a place so large. It wouldn't last, surely. Maxim's vacation from work didn't. He heard the door to the roof open, taking in the sound of swift footsteps in the gravel. And then there was someone blocking his sun.

"Yes?"

"We found him, sir," the agent replied, hands behind his back, "we have him in the hold. He hasn't been questioned yet, as per your orders. Shall I prep him?"

"Later."

"Sir?"

"I'm trying to relax. Give me another hour."

Maxim slowly rolled over, exposing his already tanning back to the golden morning air. He decided last week that maybe getting a tan to remember Miracle City by wasn't so bad an idea. Sure, he had Black Cuervo as a souvenir, but come now, she was as pale as he was. Something more exotic, if you please.

"Yes sir…"

"One more thing. Did you find his son?"

"… Not yet sir."

"… Alright. Keep up the good work."

That left the agent feeling rather good about himself. Normally you'd expect a reprisal for not succeeding in every possible way. But no; flunkies are more expensive when they actually have to be trained. Betrayal is the only thing that should be punished in this organization, M always said. Anyway… time ebbed on. And Maxim knew he'd been out in the sun too long when he shifted again, causing his skin to rebel with a mild tingle. Yep. Sunburn. Sunburn for whitie. Peeling himself off the sun chair, Maxim sighed and lifted up the bottle of sunscreen, expecting it to answer him for its obvious inadequacies. Maybe he'd buy out the company so he could have the CEO thrown out for selling a waste of a product… but later. He returned to the dark of the building with his mild sunburn and vastly improved skin color, folding his sun glasses and disappearing into his chamber. He exited several minutes later, fully dressed for this unnecessary evil he was forced to commit. When the Rivera's attacked New Alamo… it was expected. In a way, it was even what Maxim wanted to happen. But it happened too early for his liking, and if he hadn't had the experience and the foresight to plant those explosives in the highway, it was very much possible that he could have lost that battle. Now, he had to address this problem sooner or later, which was something Dr. Chipotle Sr. was very much afraid of. It didn't take long for M to figure out how the enemy had gotten a hold of the information necessary for an attack to take place; someone broke a very important rule about communication. And once word of M knowing this got out, Chipotle was headed for the hills. He was caught. How could he not be? The elevator slowed to a stop in the dark depths of the command center, where only flickering fluorescent lights kept things visible. Maxim stepped off the platform, where he was met by two agents. They led him to the cell where Dr. Chipotle Sr. was being held, hand over the empty socket where his cybernetic arm used to reside. The good doctor peered at M through the bars and shadow, scowling bitterly.

"You can't do this…"

"I can," he replied coldly, staring down with indifference, "and if you have any urges to blame someone, blame yourself."

Naught but the flickering of the failing lights was heard, stirring the fear in the trapped man's heart. He knew what was coming, and desperately wished that it would only happen to him. Chipotle knew that the information didn't just magically show up at the police station… and only one person had access to it.

"Tell me where your son is, doctor."

"Why would I do that?"

"… Because I'm actually having trouble finding him myself. Where is he?"

"He's not at home? I always told him to be at home by 9 o'clock."

"I'm already tiring of this, old man!"

As M shouted, the lights grew brighter, dimming once the moment was gone. He gripped the bars that contained Dr. Chipotle, eager to tear them open and rid the man of his three remaining limbs. The usual aura of absolute control… where has it all gone? Even when Zoe had stepped in and snatched El Tigre from him, Maxim remained in control. Maybe it was the fact that Miracle City was really not totally in control. Well, soon enough…

"You won't get anything out of me, gringo."

"Cute," Maxim backed away from the bars, waving in the agent with the keys, "but we'll see. I've come too far and wasted too much money to be stopped by something as lowly as principles."

--

_Mariscal Caceres province, San Martin, Peru, 4:01 PM_

--

They didn't land in Mariscal Caceres, where Granpapi's friend resided with his family, much to Manny's dismay. They landed in Bella Vista, about sixty miles from the border. And come now, there was no way that Manny Rivera was lucky enough for this "friend" to live near the border himself. They'd been on dirt roads in the back country for quite some time, riding in the back of a hay truck for four and half hours. It was painful. The truck slowed to a stop for what felt to be the hundredth time, and Manny took the moment to stand and stretch his weary legs. It may have stopped often, but it was rare that he actually took advantage of it. And while Manny stood, he peered over the roof of the truck, seeing a sight that was much welcomed at this stage.

"A house… please let us be there!"

The truck started moving again, kicking up a cloud of dirt as it made for the less than humble structure. The brown coloration and generally aged look of the building certainly suggested it wasn't cared for, but the size of the place… it was no palace, but you could tell someone was doing well for themselves in an otherwise poor area. And when the truck slowed to a stop, Manny stared at the building through a gap in the wood rail that held the hay in. The door slowly opened, and out came a man about as old as Grandpapi, limping about pretty sadly. Grandpapi stood and dragged Manny to his feet.

"He has a wooden leg. Don't ask him about it, or he'll start telling stories."

"Got it. Stories are bad."

Grandpapi hopped down from the truck and walked up what remained of the driveway to his old friend. Manny slowly followed, taking in the stark emptiness that nature provided. Rocky grassland as far as the eye could see… wait, no, there's a gallery forest over there. What do you know? Manny actually applied something from that otherwise damnable geography class! Gallery forests… what Frida would think if she actually heard about him being smart. … She must never know.

"Jorge! It's been too long!"

"It has indeed, Waldo! It had indeed! Sorry to ask a favor of you so suddenly."

"Not at all, Jorge. You know I owed you one. It's why you called in the first place, I imagine…"

"… Pure conjecture. I simply though my grandson should see a different part of the world."

"Ah yes," Waldo said, smiling wide, "your grandson. The infamous Manny Rivera."

Manny felt… timid, for some reason. Maybe it was just the awkwardness involved with hearing that your grandparents like to talk about you to other old people. Grandparents tend to tell "cute" stories that you would much rather have never been around to sire. And for some reason, a lot of those stories involved being two years old and naked. Or maybe it was just the idea about infamous. He was certainly moved up a notch on the list of villains with his supposed murdering of General Fitzgerald. No doubt countless other people of questionable business were aware of El Tigre now.

"Say hello, Manny."

"Yeah," Manny replied quietly, looking first at Waldo, and then at his home, "I see the illegal weapons trade is treatin' you well."

… That was certainly up front. But at least we know where everyone stands on the subject now. Grandpapi, though, was slightly embarrassed, and his jittery, nonsensical response made that apparent.

"Heh, Manny… eat your salad."

"… What salad?"

"Just be quiet."

Waldo, though, just laughed. He didn't really care what anyone thought of him, it seems. Which is a fine way to live. What most people have to say isn't really important, because most of those people will only have the one thing to say to you. And a passing glance makes for a poor first impression. The aged weapons dealer hobbled closer to Manny and patted him on the head.

"Oh, we'll get along just fine! My first grandson is a firecracker too! Ah, here he comes now."

Waldo was waving to someone in the distance, and Manny, for some reason, could only see a cloud of dust. As it grew closer, he could make out exactly what the source of all the dirt was. And he grew excited.

"An ATV?"

"Yes, Emilio loves riding around the property on that thing. At least, that's what he tells me he's doing."

The ATV came to a hard stop, rocking the driver a bit as it did. The dust cloud, unfortunately, settled over the three people just standing there, causing them all to cough and sneeze. Waldo grew a little aggravated over that.

"Emilio! How many times do I have to-?"

"Tell me to slow down first?"

"… Yes," Waldo forced through is coughing, "quite the firecracker. Emilio, these are our guests, Jorge and Manny Rivera. Why don't you say hello?"

Emilio dismounted and raised his hands up to his helmet, pulling it off of his head with a single tug. Though his hair was afflicted with static, and his moustache wasn't quite symmetrical, the tall, lithe, 21 year old troublemaker didn't seem to be bothered by any of this.

"Maybe later, gramps. I'd like to take a shower first, if that's alright."

"Emilio, maybe our guests would like to shower first. They've had a long trip."

"… Whatever."

Emilio walked away carrying his helmet, though apparently now he was more aware of his helmet hair, trying his best to smooth it out now that he had to wait for his shower. Manny stared after him angrily while Grandpapi raised an eyebrow casually.

"He seems… distracted."

"What's his problem?"

"I'm sorry… Emilio has bee watching a lot of… urban television lately. He's just acting tough."

"Great," Manny said with a hint of frustration, raising his hands up and dropping them back down just as quickly. Even in hiding, life had to be unnecessarily hard.

"Don't let him ruin your day, Manny. Now, Waldo, perhaps a tour of your home?"

--

_M's Command Center, 8:50 PM_

--

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. That was all M was doing for the past hour. Tapping on his desk absent-mindedly. He was deep in thought, or at least looked like he was. Mental wanderings… riddles in the dark. He'd gotten very little out of Chipotle Sr., which he actually admired. The guy was tougher than he looked if he could take a beating _and _two doses of truth serum. That or he really didn't know where his son's safe house was. So, either Chipotle was tougher than he looked, or, more likely, he was just smarter, and planned this all out ahead of time. Maxim did not like being outsmarted.

"… Enter."

That was weird… or was it? The door to his control room slid open with a rusty hiss, and through it came Black Cuervo, slowly approaching him while he stared at the six screens before him. He felt her hands on his shoulders, but didn't bat an eye. He could tell she didn't much like that.

"What are you working on?"

"… Work."

"Come on," she whispered playfully, leaning in close, "you can tell me."

Maxim remained silent, but again took to tapping his pen against the edge of the desk. This wasn't a sign of agitation… the wheels were just turning once more. Cuervo took to resting her head against the back of his. … Strange, she wasn't wearing her helmet.

"What are you doing, Zoe?"

"Just using my feminine charms."

"Cute," he replied, trying to swivel in his chair. But she anchored him firmly, making that an impossible act. So, he resigned himself to letting her be outside of his vision.

"What are you thinking about?"

"All sorts of things… Miracle City, my benefactors, you."

"Oh?"

Damn… should've played that better. As a cold individual, Maxim did not once find himself attracted to any of his female underlings. But that didn't mean none of them ever took his words to mean something else. He was a master of semantics, after all, twisting words around in whatever way he saw fit. And now, despite his better instincts, he wanted to play the game.

"Yes."

"Why are you thinking about me?"

"It's not hard to answer that."

"Well," she whispered, tightening her grip on his shoulders. When she spoke again, though, it was cold as ice, and she lifted her head and gently pushed away from him. "Quit it. It's creepy."

Maxim couldn't help but laugh quietly, dropping his pen to the desk and turning in his chair to face his young lieutenant. She stood in the dark in an almost… seductive fashion, which gave him ample reason to lean to his side and lift a hand to his chin.

"So, Cuervo… I suppose you have something to tell me?"

"Sartana just pulled up in her stagecoach," she replied coolly, looking at her gloved fingers in the pale blue light of the computer screens, "said you and she need to get to the volcano on time if you want this, and I quote, "ritual to succeed.""

"That's tonight?"

Maxim was up out of his chair and moving toward the door, cursing himself for losing track of his schedule so easily. Miracle City was proving to be a hex. His movement was halted by Cuervo's hand, pressed firmly against his chest. He turned his head and looked at her, seeing her glance at him in a charming manner.

"What are you up to, M?"

"Nothing abnormal."

"Stacking the deck?"

"Stacking the deck."

"Have fun, then," she mused quietly, removing her hand. He stood quietly for a moment, just staring as she turned away from him; soon, though, he started walking again, leaving Zoe with her many thoughts.

--

**Author again: **There you go. Some food for thought. And I actually want you people to try to figure some stuff out. I rather hope you succeed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author Says: **I'm back in school. And this semester may prove to be exceedingly difficult. So please, don't feel upset if I don't make my weekly update quota. Granted, you do put up with quite a bit in terms of chapter delays for your favorite stories, dear readers. Surely you won't be troubled by taking time to keep all of my affairs in order.

Care to see where things are going with all of this? Well, there MAY be a teaser on my deviantART account that glimpses into a possible future. If you want to see this possible ending, go to Sceptridium on deviantART and take a look. If you don't like anything even remotely similar to spoilers, you can probably just wait and ignore it. Either way, there's no guarantee anything of the sort will happen.

--

**Chapter 9, Relentless**

--

_Miracle City Volcano base, 9:02 PM_

--

"… You're joking, right?"

"I'm afraid not."

"You actually expect me to climb this," Maxim stated coolly, staring up the imposing mountain's side. He didn't really enjoy the idea.

"Come now, M. You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

"No… but this is completely unnecessary. There's a service road right there. Would riding your stagecoach up as far as possible really be that big a deal?"

"In order for the ritual to succeed, we must first struggle. Now, no more time for talk. We have to reach the summit before midnight, or else we need to try again tomorrow."

And that was that. As much as Maxim hated unnecessary exercise, he didn't really want to deny that this would all be worth it in the end. He questioned it, yes, but every time he convinced himself that this was exactly what he needed. Fine. He started up the service road after Sartana and some of her banditos.

--

_Sergio's Lair, four hours ago (5:00 PM)_

--

He had long ago taken to growling himself to sleep…it was so unfair. He was promised that Frida would be his, if only he served. Well, what now? What now?! Sergio was coming very close to giving up on Frida's heart once more. Was it M's business to simply crush people and build up their remains in whatever way he saw fit? Perhaps so… but the blinking light on the computer console interrupted his angry thoughts before he could think of much else. It took some time to get to the console, mostly because Sergio didn't care what he happened to run into. Upon reaching it, he pushed a button, and the blinking stopped. He took a deep, preparatory breath…

"You may speak."

"_You're needed."_

"Oh… it's you."

"_You were expecting someone else?"_

"I don't'a know what I was expecting," Sergio replied as he sank into his chair in total despair. Not anger, just sadness.

"_Frida Suarez…"_

"… Yes."

"_You have stiff competition."_

"Because'a you couldn't kill him," Sergio shouted, replacing abject sorrow with a new surge of rage. "Manny is the one she wants! As long as he's alive, you can't'a fulfill your promise! So why should I listen to you?"

"_He's not the only one after Frida… is he?"_

"… What are you saying?"

"_Chipotle…"_

--

_Miracle City Volcano, 10:30 PM_

--

The going was slow. Even with the service road, Maxim was actually having trouble climbing the mountain. He may be able to hold his own in pitched battle… but gravity was certainly one foe he'd never overcome. He found it absurd once more that they were climbing instead of riding. We must struggle… that's what Sartana had told him. Well, why was he the only one struggling then? He was the only one with a body that wasn't powered by some arcane underworld magic, who needed oxygen and rest. When Maxim paused to look up to the summit and saw that it was still very far away, he grumbled angrily, getting back to trudging up the dusty trail.

"Griping won't get us any closer…"

"Unless you're going to tell me you've changed your mind about getting to the top," he forced out through increasingly heavy breaths, "I don't want you to talk to me."

--

_Diego's Safe House, 3 and a half hours ago (7:05 PM)_

--

He recalled Tuesday as if it were just this morning… Tuesday, the last day he was seen in public. And he got to spend it with Frida. That was a good day. Staring at the concrete ceiling of the dilapidated basement in which he hid, Diego was allowing his mind to wander much as so many others had in the past week, pondering the exact same questions. Peeling himself off the cot on which he rested day in and day out, Diego stretched his legs and set his bare feet on the cool ground. Napping was an activity that was failing miserably. So instead he decided to visit the makeshift lab once more, hoping more time had passed than actually did. After deleting all the available information in his regular hideout to make it impossible to track him down, Diego had beat a hasty withdrawal to this condemned hideaway near the center of town. But hiding wasn't enough. Over the years, he had outfitted the building with equipment of his preferred sort. In the back room of his hideaway, Diego stared at the six large tubes running from the floor to the ceiling; rather, he stared at the six monsters that occupied them. In the first four tubes floated four fully grown, pepper-based monstrosities. Each one had a red, misshapen head and a large green body that appeared to be made of vines and black splinters. A smile crossed his face as their long black claws twitched.

"Aww… dream away my pets."

The two remaining tubes contained the remaining monsters, which were still in their younger stages. One appeared as little more than a juvenile version of the other four, but the remaining one barely looked any different from a red bell pepper. Albeit, one the size of a water melon. Hearing a hiss, Diego turned suddenly to a grate in the floor at the far end of the lab. When he heard a gurgling noise, he let his guard down, and approached the hole in the floor. He kneeled down before it, and through the channel oozed a mass of guacamole. It stopped once enough of its body was forced through the grate to produce a face, and the monster smiled.

"Anything yet?"

The guacamole monster shook its gooey head, maintaining its smile all the while. Diego, in the meantime, raised a hand to his chin and began thinking about his next move. He couldn't wait much longer for the peppers to mature… but he couldn't start raids against M without a full force. The monster hissed quietly, speaking in a language only Diego really understands. He sighed and looked at his creation.

"We can't go home yet… it's not safe there."

Safety. That's laughable. Was there any place that was really safe? Diego had not once gone outside once he got to this secret place, for fear of revealing himself to the enemy. He recalled the old way of things, when all he and his family ever had to worry about was the interference of a Rivera. Those were better times. Diego slowly walked back to the cot, and with the flick of a cybernetic finger the television came on. He kept it tuned to the news all the time, waiting for the right broadcast, the right story, the right day. As the broadcast progressed, Diego lifted himself up onto a pile of crates under a small window; he peered out into the growing darkness, perhaps out of paranoia, or maybe out of longing.

"_It has been two days since the last sighting of the fugitives El Tigre and Puma Loco, who authorities now believe have left the country. White Pantera, the legendary super hero, refused to give an interview, though he once again restated his belief that his son is innocent of the alleged murder charges."_

"I'm sure," Diego said quietly, climbing down from the boxes and sitting down on the bottom one, "what else?"

"_In other news, prices of fuel and interest rates are stabilizing once more, thanks to a massive influx of badly needed funds from Maximum Enterprises. Though there is growing concern from some businesses regarding the growing company, it can't be argued that the presence of the powerful investment firm has greatly aided Miracle City in its time of need."_

"And it's all _his _fault to begin with. It's clever, but it's hardly news."

And now the program was going into weather. Fantastic. That was certainly helpful; a handful of murders, a recap on the Tigre incident, and "concerns" about M's growing monopoly. Diego began to lie back on the cot when something caught his attention.

"_We have just received word that Senor Siniestro has been spotted over the recently rebuilt Miracle City mint with a captive. We now have footage from a home video camera of the scene."_

Diego turned over to better see the television, only caring because of his still present urge to make Sergio suffer for being the jerk that he was. He thought that this program would prove interesting, that Sergio might find himself getting blown up by a tank. That would be neat… but it didn't happen. Diego's eyes went wide as he recognized the hostage, held near the edge of the structure as Senor Siniestro fired into the crowd below. The white coat, the eye piece, the twisted hair, the shoulder piece to the removed cybernetic arm…

"Father?!"

--

_Miracle City Volcano, 11:45 PM_

--

"Oh good, we're almost there…"

"Yes," Sartana sighed, shaking her head at M's fleshy weakness, "we're almost there. And with just enough time to spare."

"Terrific."

Dust covered his shoes and his pants up to his knees, and through hastily taken breaths Maxim could feel his head pounding. Frankly, the fight with El Tigre had made him feel that he wasn't at all out of shape like he feared. But that, it seems, was not an accurate test of health. He _has _been riding the elevator a lot lately.

"But Sartana, if this ordeal doesn't work out, I'm going to kill you."

"You can't kill what's already dead, darling."

"… Fine, I'll just hit you with a tack-hammer until I feel better."

--

_Miracle City Mint, 7:22 PM_

--

Tossing the battered body of Dr. Chipotle Sr. across the roof, Senor Siniestro casually turned and fired a volley of bullets down at the encroaching military personnel, keeping them at a safe distance. He smirked a bit, certain once more that M was right, and that this would work. If it did, all that remained was Manny Rivera. When the enemy made its move once again, Siniestro responded by turning his body and launching a small rocket down at the ground, sending dirt and shrapnel all around. The siege was, without a doubt, going terribly.

"Come on, Diego… rescue your old man."

"If that's what you want, Sergio."

"What?!"

Siniestro turned to see Dr. Chipotle Jr. smirking villainously, laser aimed at his old friends head. But instead of showing any signs of loss, Siniestro only laughed. It was the sort of laughter that all cliché villains love to indulge in, the sort that just screams egomania. When he stopped, he found that Chipotle had lowered his weapon, using his arm to instead tend to his wounded father.

"You think that I wasn't ready for this, Diego?! I wanted you to come here."

"I know," Chipotle responded cynically, "you said that before. Remember? The "rescue your old man" part?"

"Uh… shut up!"

Before the "great come back" moment could really set in, Siniestro started laughing again, though this time he pushed a button on his arm first. But as nothing happened for, oh, ten whole seconds, he had to wonder what the hell was going on. He pushed the button a few more times.

"What is this? Where are my robots?!"

"I can only guess," Chipotle said with a growing grin, "but it looks like your back-up got caught by _my _back-up."

Now Dr. Chipotle took this moment to laugh, reveling in the surprise value of the beastly green hand that took Senor Siniestro from behind. Before the villainous cowboy could even utter a sentence fragment, the guacamole monster flung him hard off the building. He landed on a parked car across the street from the mint, crushing it under the weight of his armor. The armor which allowed him to get up and start running away once the monster landed some twenty feet away carrying Dr. Chipotle Sr. and Jr. on its back. Diego climbed down from the hulking mass of dip, keeping an eye on his nemesis as he fled. He then turned to his monster.

"Take him to the hiding place! I'll deal with Siniestro myself! Go now!"

Senor Siniestro was actually running away pretty effectively. With each step, he fired up his thrusters enough to reduce his work to almost nothing, saving much needed fuel in the process. He wasn't really running away… he was just getting to another good position, having lost his trap before it was sprung. Pity. It was a good trap. Reaching a good place to change direction, Siniestro fired up his jets and jumped off the street, flying directly toward a building. He turned his feet to face the structure at the last second, crashing into it in a controlled manner. And before gravity could take him back down, he jumped hard again, flying down the intersection toward a gas station. He landed just ten feet away from it.

"Whoo. That was close."

"Hello, Sergio."

He turned, not at all liking what he heard. And sure enough, there Chipotle stood, barely separated from the darkness of the alley which led him to this very spot. It was aggravating, really; all that effort in making it difficult to track himself, and Senor Siniestro found himself in front of his enemy once again.

"Oh come on! How did you find me so easily?"

"That's a secret, Sergio…"

"Huh, doesn't matter," he began, noting one very important thing and smiling as he started to advance on Chipotle's position, "without your monster, you'll be dead before this is even fun."

"Oh, you're right. My monster is missing… what ever will I rely upon?"

He laughed again as this time he was joined by the four hyper-mutated peppers from his makeshift laboratory. They leaped off the rooftops of the buildings which together made the alley, landing in front of their master in unison. Growling loud to intimidate their opponent and flexing their clawed hands, the peppers were certainly something look upon.

"Okay… didn't see that'a comin'."

"Monsters! Destroy him!"

And they tried to. Very aggressively, at that. Without thought, without regard for their own well-being, all four of the monsters charged at Siniestro. One went down with the sound of gunfire before it could even close the gap, but the other three made contact with Siniestro without much of a problem. The hit hard, pushing him across the asphalt; his armored feet scraped across the ground, causing Sergio to shiver from the hideous sound. When one of the beasts slashed at his face, cutting his cheek in the process, he grew angry enough to do more about his position. Siniestro plunged one hand into the closest beast, launching it away with a single punch. They were aggressive, but not all that heavy. With this in mind, Siniestro grabbed another monster by the "throat" lifting it up and away from his body, leaving only the fourth to deal with. His gun still at the ready, he used the trapped pepper-beast's body to smash the still attacking fourth away, shooting its fragile body apart when the opportunity came.

"Hah! Your varmints are easily dealt with, Diego. Just like your fa-!"

Before Siniestro could enjoy his self-satisfaction or continue his taunt, the monster he had sent away returned with a vengeance, slashing at the robotic arm that held its companion out of the battle. Unable to resist the attacks, Siniestro instead dropped the beast, using the arm to shield himself instead. He backed up, hoping to find a place more suitable for firing on the monsters, and hopefully their master. Step after step, enduring the pummeling that these tenacious, angry things were doling out. When it altogether stopped, he had to wonder why. Moving his clawed up arm out of his face, he took a moment to scan the area. The remaining monsters had retreated to Chipotle's position… was he waving? A little unnerved, Senor Siniestro turned his head slowly to the left, and saw a lovely new gasoline pump. Ah.

"Oh shoot…"

Dr. Chipotle Jr., not wasting another moment, pointed his laser and fired, piercing the gas pump with a ray of heat and light. There was probably a measurement of time available for the very, very brief interval between the attack and the massive fireball that followed, but it's not one that can be measured in the blink of an eye. Flames engulfed Senor Siniestro's form within a second, hiding him from view. Not that that mattered; Diego had to shield his face from the intense of the blast, even as he and his pepper-beasts retreated into the alley way. The first creature pulled hard on a sewer grate, lifting it free of the ground; Dr. Chipotle jumped down into the shadow, followed shortly by his remaining creations.

--

_Miracle City Volcano Summit, 11:58 PM_

--

Maxim stood at the edge of the volcano, staring down into the hot, toxic nightmare below. Though plumes of gas and much heat were indeed escaping the crater, he saw very little actual lava in the caldera; much of it seemed to be rather solid, just as the reports stated. A very curious state for a volcano to be in.

"So, Sartana, go over this again for me."

"Which part?"

"What does your grandson have to do with the volcano being the way it is right now?"

"I'm not really sure… but after El Tigre pushed by Django into the lava, it froze up. He never appeared in Limbo, which means that for some reason he wasn't completely destroyed."

"Hence the unusual ritual," Maxim sighed, brushing dust and sweat off his forehead. Then a thought occurred. "Sartana, why exactly did we have to "struggle"?"

As Sartana only laughed quietly to herself, Maxim growled and kicked a stone into the smoldering crater, turning away and looking out over the city. Two minutes 'til; the city looked rather peaceful now that everything and everyone was sleeping. Almost something he would preserve. Almost.

"It's time!"

Sartana pointed her headstock at a forty-five degree angle and struck the strings hard. From her guitar came a glittering green beam, shooting fast toward an unseen point. But when it reached that point, the beam stopped, which Maxim found very curious. Even stranger, Sartana began muttering words in a language he was not familiar with. At this time, he noticed five skeleton banditos positioned around the rim of the volcano, each lifting a fist to the air toward the point where the beam stopped. From them came small orbs of golden light, all of which funneled toward the center point. The end of the beam began to grow into a large orb of its own, collecting power, changing from green to gold. Quite a sight, really. Finally, Sartana's chanting stopped, and the orb was no longer fed by her guitar. It remained still in the air, for a time, bursting only when the air was completely still; a larger beam of gold light plummeted down to the volcanic crust below, splintering the stone that encased Django of the Dead. When the beam was exhausted, Maxim chanced looking down into the pit, keeping his wrist in front of his nose to prevent himself from breathing the foul air. Nothing seemed to happen… until lava started to pour through the whole. And then came an explosion, a geyser of molten rock and fire. It shot out with a fierce roar, driving a dark mass from the pit. A dark mass which landed loudly behind Sartana of the Dead. Maxim turned to look upon whatever it was that constituted Sartana's grandson, seeing only something shorter than her in the darkness. Of course. He was dead. He would _always _be shorter. When he emerged from the shade of his grandmother, Django walked slowly toward the edge of the summit, looking down upon the city, and strummed his own guitar quietly. Maxim took another step forward, but halted when Django asked him a question.

"So, who are you?"

--

_Miracle City Airport, 7 hours ago (5:12 PM)_

--

Four months. He had waited four months. Just like Manny. And now, standing at the baggage claim in his grey suit, flamboyant mask over his face, Rodolfo fidgeted like mad as he waited for just a little longer. It was killing him, really, because he knew she'd have a million questions. He had just as many himself. Most of them, he was certain, would revolve around Manny. He was the light of her life, after all… what remained of the questions would certainly be about Miracle City's well-being. Rodolfo also wondered about that. The only questions he didn't expect to be asked were questions about Rodolfo himself. He never gave up on trying to change the past, reverse what was likely irreversible, but Rodolfo did long ago give up on expecting too much. Still, he hoped. And all at once, he stopped fidgeting, standing up straight and turning around in but a second. There she was, right behind him.

"Hello, Maria."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Hey everybody. Yep. Chapter 10, at long last. I'm sorry it took me as long as it did to just write this one chapter, as opposed to my usual once-a-week dealy, and my several-within-days mentality at the beginning of a new story. Well, here it is. Enjoy Demise.

**--**

**Chapter 10, Demise**

--

_Miracle City, Sunday, 8:04 PM_

--

Sometimes it's hard being a hero. That's not to say that it's hard to do the right thing; that's actually very easy. The hard part is being there for people when they need you, and trying to cope with not succeeding in defending them. And then there's the hardest part… searching through smoldering wreckage in search of the bodies of those you have failed. When the bombs started going off four hours ago, and fire consumed one building after another, White Pantera sprang into action. Him and every other emergency unit out there; any that were left. And the attacks… it was as if they were chosen simply to break the already strained remainder of the decimated emergency response teams. That and maximize damage to the city itself. Rodolfo paused at a girder, blackened with ash and collapsed on a pile of rubble. He took a deep breath and gripped the heavy steel beam with both hands, expecting to just lift it out of the way like many of the others he had to deal with; the incredible burning sensation changed his mind right away. Jumping back and cursing as he shook his hands, the hero turned his gaze once more on the fallen support, growing increasingly angry with it as he recalled every life lost today. Finally, needing to relieve that rage, White Pantera forced the toe of his boot under the girder and launched it against a nearby wall with all the grace of a big rig. It cracked against the already weakened wall, piercing it, and robbing it of all that remained of its structural integrity. A gap formed, and from it came an array of cracks, spreading mercilessly through the wall and ceiling of the building. There was a great terrible noise…

--

_9 Hours Ago_

_M's Command Center, Sunday, 11:13 AM_

--

"_You're absolutely certain about this?"_

"Yes, I'm afraid," M replied, tapping his fingers against the desk quietly. On one of the screens of his control room was the face of … Greg Stylex?

"_I'm still not sure I follow."_

"Simply put, we have to draw suspicion away from our face. If it suffers too, people will be less inclined to accuse Max. Enterprise of having a hand in any of it."

"_Has anyone ever been that stupid?" _As Nikolai asked, he took to adjusting his hair, making sure it was exactly as the recent photo of the CEO showed.

"You'd be surprised. Now, get going, man. We have to make sure Stylex is seen leaving the country. And he has to be seen to have faith in Miracle City's recovery."

"_Da. Good luck, my friend."_

The link was cut, and the window closed; this granted M the moment he needed to just lean back and enjoy the moment. And what a wonderful moment it was. Sure, things had gone wrong before. Pretty wrong, in fact. Alright, to be honest, there were one or two moments where it looked like the whole plan would just collapse in on itself. But now? Things were… just great. And with that in mind, M smiled. A chill crawled up his spine, though, and the good moment was gone. Leaning forward again, he pivoted in his chair and turned to the heavy door, keeping a stoic visage at hand as it slid open. Through the opening came Sartana, followed shortly by Django, and silence followed him. The moment dragged on… until finally M cracked a smile.

"Late as usual, Sartana."

"Sorry," she replied insincerely, taking to picking at the dirt between her knuckles, "I'm still getting used to just traveling around in broad daylight."

"Strange," M said, standing up slowly, "I wasn't aware things had gotten that bad out there. What sort of world do we live in when super villains can just come and go as they please."

The laughter was mild. The malice was incredible. And after waiting patiently for… oh, two minutes, Django decided to interrupt the pointless banter.

"You said you had something for me to do," he said plainly, "what was it?"

"Of course. You're going to help me "clean up the city," so to speak. Tell me, how do you feel about Senor Siniestro?"

--

_Diego's Safe House, 11:15 AM_

--

"He's been motionless for hours…"

Diego leaned against one of the growth chambers in his makeshift lab, watching his father sleep on the cot from where he sat. And after the first ten hours, it was true: he had stopped making any major motion, barely showing signs of breathing as he recuperated. Relief at his father's safety aside, sitting on the concrete all night keeping an eye on his old man had not done Diego any good. He climbed to his feet, barely managing to keep steady as he popped his back in a stretch. He turned to face the big green tube, in which was suspended a new pepper critter, slowly maturing to its final form. What he learned last night… was that the right hormones would make these things grow like crazy. Unfortunately, the very same hormones made the only survivor _go _crazy. It had to be terminated before Diego could even safely return to his safe house. What a pity; all that research gone to waste. It was only after yawning and pressing his head against the glass that Diego realized how tired he truly was. As such, he decided that maybe, just maybe, he'd do his father more good if he slept a bit. Diego slowly walked across the cool concrete barefoot, reaching the cot in no time. His father certainly looked like he needed the thing more than Diego did, so he instead decided to just make due. Pulling a cardboard box filled with who knows what against the wall, he sat on and leaned against the wall. It wasn't comfortable, but hey, when you're tired enough, anything counts as a bed.

"Rest well, father…"

--

_City Hall, 12:30 PM_

--

It was a hot day. And on hot days, it's easy to just stop paying attention. That was the case with the police officers placed to keep an eye on City Hall. They didn't really see anything wrong when a big delivery truck rolled to a stop at the gate, or with the fact that the men who climbed out of the cab were very familiar. Familiar in "did I maybe arrest this guy" sort of way. But the officers weren't really thinking that hard. This was a cushy job, what they had here. Who would try anything at city hall after all. When one of the men from the truck approached, greasy black moustache bending gently with each step, the officer he walked towards started to focus.

"Can I help you?" he asked, looking the man from head to toe. He was a big guy… might be trouble. He held a clip board in his huge hands, and his blue, dingy overalls simply helped to reflect his whole uncultured demeanor.

"Yeah, uh, we got some stuff for the municipal president's next big party, or whatever."

"That sounds like Rodriguez… pompous little-."

"Yeah, that's great," the driver interrupted, bringing a crate nearly five feet tall to the gate with a loading dolly, "but would you mind letting us through? We got two more deliveries to do today."

"Sure thing. Sorry about the inconvenience in having to use the front gate, but the construction on the loading bay around back is taking forever. Do you need a hand moving any of this stuff?"

"Sure," the big guy replied, smiling pleasantly as he made his way back to the truck.

--

_Rivera Estate, 1:00 PM_

--

Maria leaned against the doorway, staring into his room. The four months she had spent abroad were no easier on her than anyone else here… and she often regretted her decision to up and go to Brazil, leaving Manny here to cope with these problems without her guidance. She didn't care that these problems were well outside of her realm; it was her place to help. So now she stared into Manny's empty room, devoid of the warmth associated with occupancy. She had only missed him by a couple days…

"Is he safe, Rodolfo?"

Rodolfo had returned from his father's room, directing the construction despite his lack of expertise on the subject. Amazing how many people didn't follow basic safety rules these days. He thought about how best to answer her question…

"Papi is looking after him, Maria."

"But is he safe?"

"You need to take your mind off these things," he said, guiding her by the arms away from Manny's bedroom. He sat her at the kitchen table, "can I get you anything?"

She sat silently, staring at the clock on the wall with a sadness that just ate her up. When she first heard news of Manny upon getting back… murder? That was just not right. How could it be? That Miracle City would even believe that is insane…

"Maria?"

"I want Manny back, Rodolfo. I want to see him."

"You will, Maria, you will. But for now," he said, setting a glass of cold water in front of her, "you need to be patient."

"… Is he safe?"

Rodolfo watched solemnly as Maria gently tapped a fingernail against the lip of the glass, and his compassion got the best of him. Certainly he'd want to know… wouldn't any parent? Taking a seat, he removed his mask and cast it to the table with a sigh.

"Yes. Yes he is."

--

_Channel 11 News Broadcasting Center, 3:45 PM_

--

A big, brown delivery van pulled to a stop outside the station, and the driver remained in behind the wheel, checking her clip board and blowing big purple bubbles with her gum. After a time, she stood and walked into the back of the van. The back door opened, the loading ramp was lowered, and a large trolley loaded with packages was wheeled down to the pavement. The delivery girl pushed the load up onto the sidewalk, calmly pushing it up the walk toward the front door. As the girl chewed her gum, she looked across the room to the lone security guard, watching various screens in his desk that probably weren't monitoring any hallways. The trolley was stopped in front of the desk, and the girl leaned over on the counter, barely revealing the cleavage held in by the tight, brown top that was purposefully left unbuttoned at the top.

"Hey, I got a delivery here."

The first thing the guard noticed, being a simple man, was the young lady's breasts, which he made a deal of avoiding eye contact with immediately afterward. He looked at the delivery girl… and for some reason recognized her vibrant black hair. She smiled and presented the clip board.

"Sign please."

"Have I seen you before?" the guard asked as he casually signed for the delivery, once or twice glancing up at the girl's eyes.

"Maybe. I do a couple deliveries here a month."

"Hm… what's in the boxes?"

"Hey, if I knew that, I'd get fired! Speaking of," she said in a hasty fashion, looking at her watch, "I'm behind schedule. You mind havin' someone take these from here? I can swing back for the trolley after my next drop."

"Sure thing, sweetie."

"Thanks."

The delivery blew a big bubble and waved with her fingers. As she walked, the guard couldn't help but notice how tight her shorts were as well. He was caught between wishing he were younger and criticizing kids these days. But he also went about helping the girl as she requested. Picking up a receiver, he dialed in the number for someone from the mail room.

"_Yeah."_

"Hey, we just got a delivery. Can you send someone to deal with it?"

"… _Yeah, sure."_

--

_Diego's Safe House, 3:57 PM_

--

There was a noise in Diego's feverish dream… it sounded like an alarm. And it was only when he stirred into waking that he realized that it was indeed such; the intruder alarm to be exact. It was quiet enough that no one outside should notice when it is going off, but certainly loud enough to warn that danger has found you. Climbing to his feet, Diego looked around the room, slightly delirious and expecting an attack. After a brief time, he took note of the lack of an intruder… but was not at all settled. He turned to his father and began shaking his still exhausted form.

"Father! Get up! We have to go; it's not safe here anymore!"

Dr. Chipotle Sr., still suffering from his multiple beatings and being drugged, could barely acknowledge… well, anything. He managed to mumble something about his neck hurting, which made so little sense Diego had to just disregard it. He dragged his father to his feet and started toward the exit, dealing with one burning question.

"But how did M find me? How did he find us?"

When his father addressed the painful itch on the back of his neck a second time, Diego actually listened, and now put two and two together. Pausing a moment, he ran a finger on his father's neck and started picking at the odd protrusion he found there. After a yelp of mild pain, Diego withdrew from his father and looked at his prize.

"… A tracking chip? SWINE!"

--

_Sergio's Lair, 3:57 PM_

--

Something curious was happening… something that didn't usually happen before Sergio already knew it was going to happen. There was a knock at the door. Well, multiple knocks in succession, but that's beside the point. The point is, whatever was knocking at the door didn't take the time to trip the heat sensors that lined the perimeter of the base. And whoever was at the door was just in the blind spot of the closest camera. Wonderful. Sergio girded his loins, picked up a weapon, and limped to the door, ready to face whoever was there with courage and burnt skin. The knocking stopped when he undid the lock, sending an echo through the big empty room. Though this only served to make Sergio even more nervous, he proceeded to open the big door… and was met with several pairs of piercing red eyes. First and foremost among them?

"Django of the Dead?"

Sergio stood little chance as a ray of energy pierced his gut. The attack splattered blood along the floor behind him, and the force of it sent him to his back, gasping for air as he desperately clung to life. He pressed his hands against the wound and tried to steady his breathing, ignoring the weapon that was still at his side, staring at the ceiling as blood escaped his wound and his mouth. The sound of boots and bones filled the room; some were hastily moving, others not so much. Django was among those moving slowly, stopping beside Sergio as he quickly died. He smiled, and coldly repeated what M had told him to say.

"Your services are no longer needed. And we've decided to withhold all payment, and take what is ours. Which is everything."

Sergio clutched his wound tighter, though one could see in his eyes that he was slipping away from the world. In the center of the room was placed a large metal sphere, carried by two very large skeleton banditos. They looked to Django as they held on to the grips on either end of the sphere… he nodded to them, turned, and left. The banditos followed him, some carrying various technological marvels, others carrying nothing. Sergio's gasps finally stopped as the number in the center of the now open sphere quickly reached zero.

--

_Broadcasting Center, 4:01 PM_

--

The easy-going security guard continued to watch his soaps on one of the many security screens after the delivery girl left, forgetting all about package-related nonsense. He was interrupted by the mail room clerk he'd brought up to finish delivering the packages, and what the guard saw was a most curious thing.

"Why didn't you deliver any of the packages?"

"Because, you idiot," the clerk said, tossing one package onto the desk, "none of these people work here. Wrong address."

"Wrong address…?"

The guard picked up the package and looked at it in a very discerning way. He carefully ran his fingers along the edges of the box he held… 10 inches by 8 inches by 6 inches. A peculiar box design… and it was holding something heavy. Meanwhile, some fifteen or twenty blocks away, the delivery girl casually spit out her gum and cast it to the ground. She was next in line for the military check point she found herself at, and gently smiled at the soldier as walked up to the side of her vehicle.

"Where are you going, miss?"

"I have a delivery at Santos Circle."

"Care if we check the back?"

"Not at all," she replied calmly, handing the soldier the key to the back. She waited for a few minutes as a pair of soldiers rummaged through the back of the van, stopping when they found what they were looking for.

"Everything checks out. You're free to go," the soldier replied, handing the girl the key.

So, Zoe was waved through the check point without much static. Anticipating the vehicle being searched, M had planted a package in the back with a Santos Circle address. And once she had pulled far enough away, Zoe smiled and fished a small device out of a cardboard box stuck between the two suits of the delivery van. She flipped the top, and with malice in her heart, pressed down on the red button.

"Adios."

--

_Diego's Safe House, 4:06 PM_

--

The intruder alarm had worked exactly as Dr. Chipotle Jr. had intended… but the intruders really had no intention to do any real intruding. The men in black had a simple mission: plant several small bombs along the perimeter of the building. Each one was a curious little red box with a latch on the side. Lifting the latch allowed one to open the case and see the wires, clock, and one button inside. And now… time was up. Each bomb detonated according to its timer, and each bomb was within half a second of another. Fire and smoke filled the air, soon followed by bricks and mortar. This was all, of course, paired with the deafening din of high explosives and crumbling building. Within moments, the safe house was razed to nothing; it was a pile of stone and dust.

--

_City Hall, 4:06 PM_

--

Instead of multiple smaller explosives ripping the building apart, everyone in and outside of City Hall was treated to the epic power of one individual large bomb. When it detonated, it ripped the epic building in two, disintegrating half of its foundation in no time. The police outside rushed toward the growing cloud of smoke and powdered concrete, trying to radio for somebody, anybody; trying to get help.

--

_Sergio's Lair, 4:06 PM_

--

He was long dead when the bomb finally reached zero… there is really no telling what someone's final thoughts are when they die alone, which is a terrible shame. But as the device detonated, it is certain that Sergio died with an expression of peace, contrary to the violent chaos that rapidly engulfed the entirety of his beloved base. People miles away looked up to the hill that Sergio's barn once sat atop, gazing in awe and dread as light engulfed it, followed by the jarring sound of the blast.

--

_Broadcasting Center, 4:06 PM_

--

The security guard and mail clerk… they were lucky enough to not feel the explosion that ripped out of every individual package. They were quickly slain by the blast, which expanded rapidly, blowing out all the front windows, scorching passersby on the sidewalk, engulfing the entire base of the building with chemically driven fires. Once the initial blast finished rocking the soon to be former news center, the flames continued to spread, fueled by a combustible agent that allowed the fire to eat away at the steel supports of the doomed building.

--

_Ruined Broadcasting Center, 8:05 PM_

--

White Pantera stared at the piled of rubble that fell on the exact spot he stood just a moment ago, topped by what could only be a two-hundred pound metal desk. He made a note not to be so careless from here on out. Carelessness… it only took one mistake for people to die. Lifting himself off the scorched floor, he turned and looked down the hallway, coughing a bit as he did. Fire crews had "taken control" of the inferno three times today, and he wasn't certain they'd done it well enough the fourth time. Hell, why was he even in here? No one could have survi-.

"Is someone down there?!"

"What? Yes!"

White Pantera approached the hole in the ceiling, the source of the cough-ridden voice he had heard. He carefully positioned himself, then leaped up through the opening into the next level. There he found five people, two of which were incapacitated by their burns. The healthy individuals were doing their best to move them along. Rodolfo didn't know how they survived, and frankly he didn't care. It was a miracle.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Hey everybody! That's right, I'm still alive! Can you believe it? Times have been rough, I tell you what… but I'm resolved to at least try to write again. And I'm going to. I have ideas still rolling around in my head (for trade, if you happen to have chocolate), and I need to free them, get them out into the world! So that is exactly what I'll do.

--

**Chapter 11, The Alliance Crumbles**

--

_International News Network Special Report_

--

"Good morning, I'm Ashton Wilson. Fires are still burning in Miracle City after a successful terrorist plot to destroy several areas of the once bustling metropolis left the world completely baffled. Miracle City authorities, still struggling hard to keep their home under control, have been pushed to the brink by these latest attacks. Fortunately, this does not mean that there is no hope; new businesses are attempting to save the wounded city by pouring fresh capital into ailing businesses. This economic bid of humanitarianism is being spear-headed by Maximum Enterprises, who's CEO, Greg Stylex, is joining us on satellite from his European headquarters in Paris. How are you this morning, Greg?"

"_Good morning Ashton, it's great to be on INN. But I'm sad to say that I'm not at all well."_

"Oh? Care to share what's on your mind?"

"_Gladly. First and foremost, I'm appalled by the concept of terrorism. It's senseless, damning… can I say that?"_

"Heh, no, but I do think we all agree with you…"

"_Sorry, Ashton, but it's just so outrageous. Miracle City, which attracted my business with its bustling ports and booming business sector, has long had problems with crime; maybe even more so than many other cities out there. But something like this is abhorrent. No one will benefit from sending Miracle City back to the Stone Age."_

"Good stuff, Greg. Thanks for your time. We all pray for Miracle City, who is in dire need of a miracle now…"

--

_M's Command Center, Monday, 5:59 AM_

--

"_We all pray for Miracle City, who is in dire need of a miracle now…"_

It was not the television which produced the noise in the nearly pitch black room, but the clock radio which sat on the nightstand next to Maxim's one creature comfort: his bed. It quietly relayed the INN report, funneling news directly into M's sleeping mind. Even at rest he continued this absurd pursuit. He quietly breathed into his pillow, neither smiling nor frowning as he dreamed away. He snapped awake when a knock on the closed door came, followed by a question. Both sounds cut through the stifling warm gloom of the room.

"Sir," a voice came through the wood, "are you awake?"

"Enter."

The door opened slowly, and Agent Geoffrey, the only agent to have been named thus far, entered the dark space and stood tall and still, waiting for acknowledgement. But it seemed that his commander… had fallen back to sleep.

"Sir?"

"Wh-at?"

"You asked someone to inform you when Dr. Koreyama was finished with the prototypes."

"… And?"

"Wha…? Sir, the prototypes are finished," Agent Geoffrey responded in a confused tone. "Sir, if you don't mind my asking, how much sleep have you been getting of late?"

There was quiet now. Only the radio, still channeling the distant news broadcast, cut through the silence. There was a click, and soon even the broadcast was gone from the room. Agent Geoffrey, knowing better but still fearing the worst, swallowed hard, waiting for a response.

"Not enough," M finally replied, "now, agent, would you mind terribly having the cook prepare me some food? I'm damn tired, but more importantly, I'm damn hungry."

Geoffrey nodded, turned and left. Left alone on his soft bed in the dark room, M almost slipped back into sleep. It took no small amount of discipline to just move his arms to push his chest up off the mattress, and after mustering it he immediately regretted not just going back to sleep. But if he didn't get moving, what was the world to do? It wasn't like it could run itself, after all; wars, petty crime, resource hoarding, famines left unrelieved, oppression left unstopped… if M was the villain, and _he _wasn't causing this madness, then who was to blame for this? Not under his watch… he always told himself that. Everyday.

--

_A half hour passes_

--

He was showered. He was dressed. He was ready to take on another day. He was still damn hungry. Waiting in his control room, he idly tapped his fingers against the desk, watching the open door, watching the agents coming and going beyond it. Where in the hell was his food?! No. Thinking about it won't help anything. In a bid to ignore his hunger, M turned to his computers. Maybe _watching_ the conversation between Greg Stylex and the INN anchor would put a better idea of how things were going in his head. And no sooner did M begin typing to find the interview was he interrupted by… his breakfast.

"Sir."

"What?!"

"… Sorry sir. We didn't mean to get your breakfast ready this late."

"Oh," M eyed the cook tiredly, still strained by the absence of adequate sleep. "You… brought me my food yourself."

"Yes sir…"

"… Why?"

--

_Sartana's Lair, 6:04 AM_

--

They sat across from one another, each staring at the other; it was impossible to say why, because neither would blink. In silence they sat, not once wavering from this contest of wills. But patience, which comes with age, always wins out in the end; exhausted by the eerie silence and eager for anything else, Django spoke.

"Fine, you win."

"Yes! I always win! Maybe one day you'll best me, Djangie," Sartana added cutely to her taunt, "but now, the day is mine."

"That's great, Nana, but I wanted to talk about your plan again."

"We'll talk about it later, Django. I told you already," she said with what was possibly a frown, "we have to wait for the girl. We won't have a chance at taking him unless the girl is out of the way."

"Is she really that much of threat? We could kill her if she is, you know? It would be much easier."

"And much less satisfying."

Django accepted that; reckless murder, no matter how random, was rarely as enjoyable as the smoky bitterness of deception. It was, hands down, one of his favorite flavors. Right up there with the sour-sweetness of unrequited love. Kicking a loose piece of gold, Django turned and headed to a flight of stairs at the back of the prison. The darkness, permeated by slowly thickening beams of sunlight pouring through injuries in the building's structure brought peace to his already too ancient bones. The life of a skeleton, one must remember, is not measured in human life-spans. And time really doesn't work the same way in the beyond. Climbing to the top… that always cleared his mind too. Arriving at the rooftop just in time to see the golden sun climb above the hideous skyline of the human city? … That was just something he couldn't miss. And once he saw the sun, he smiled an evil smile.

--

_Command Center Training Room, 7:12 AM_

--

"_As you can see, the prototypes are much faster and more resilient thanks to recommendations from your man."_

"Now now, doctor," M replied, with a vicious smile, "it's your programming that's going to make them shine on the battlefield. But have you considered a test yet?"

"_Oh yes," _Dr. Koreyama replied, smiling almost as evilly, _"a local hero of some renown. He and his son have proven to be impressive specimens. We shall test these against the two of them."_

"Excellent, doctor. Your payments will continue so long as there is profit in your research. I'm sorry, but I have to cut this meeting short. Take care, won't you? And inform me when the final test is complete."

"_Will do."_

The feed went dead, and M closed the window that had cluttered up the screen so he could continue his work on it undistracted. Not that he wanted to work now as he leaned back into his chair, smiling fiercely. The idea of these new weapons just made him… giddy is the word, though he'd never be caught saying it. Upon checking the time, he remembered something critical. Today was the day he and another had long been waiting for. And by long, of course, we mean a couple of days. He pushed down on a button connected to a box connected to a wire, which was connected to something out of sight. He spoke to the box as he held the switch down.

"Could someone see if my dear Ms. Cuervo is feeling well? If she is, send her down. One man can never run the world."

He started looking over his overloaded work space, lifting up items as he searched for one thing in particular. Madness… how could someone who claims to be in control lack the organization to keep papers important to a coup d'est grace in an obvious place? Having no luck finding the file in question in the first minute, M pushed down on the button a second time.

"Actually, don't check up on her until 7:30… yes, that would be better. 7:30."

--

_Zoe's Chamber, 7:12 AM_

--

Zoe hadn't really slept in the past 36 hours. Not in any recuperative way, anyhow. And it would be slightly insane to expect her to, considering her actions. She wasn't sad, she wasn't guilty… at least, she didn't feel like she was either of those things. Pacing back and forth in her suit, every now and then she would pause to look at her helmet, grinding her teeth as she looked over the M and thought about what it meant to her now. The feeling manifested in three words.

"You disgust me…"

"_You only have yourself to blame._"

"That's not true," Zoe whispered, turning her eyes to the floor. "It's all his fault."

"_Not likely."_

She started to grind her teeth again. Surely it had to be. He ruined her life, practically forced her into this. This road of cruelty… he put her here.

"_No he didn't. You had every opportunity to change. Admit it."_

"No."

"_Admit that deep down…"_

"No!"

"_You wanted this."_

Zoe took her helmet in her hands and squeezed it, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes so tight she began to cry. The cold metal of her head gear did not yield, despite how much she just wanted to crush it out of being; maybe if she couldn't see what she had become for him, she would feel better.

"_He didn't love you like you hoped he would… big deal. A sane person wouldn't have had a melt down."_

"… He strung me along."

"_No he didn't."_

She started to sob without shedding tears, eventually dropping the helmet back on the table so she could plant her hands firmly upon the same piece of furniture. Every day… every day it was this mental battle. And every day she found herself becoming more and more what M wanted her to be: his legacy. But today, her battle was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Black Cuervo. M wants you in his control room at 7:30 AM for a special mission. Don't be late."

Her eyelids snapped open, and her mouth twisted into a wrathful expression. What was it now? Murder all the children in an orphanage? Burn down a hospital? Kick a puppy? The man _always _had a special mission for her, it seemed. But… at least when she was out, she could just fly around. She loved being in the air.

"Cuervo?"

"I'll be there. Now leave."

--

_The Control Room, 7:30 AM_

--

He sat patiently, staring at screens which had yet to be turned on. More unsettling was how he did nothing as he sat… no tapping, no thumb-twiddling, barely any breathing. This completely juxtaposed his activities just thirty minutes ago, where even the slightest failure in his defenses would result in seared lungs and a lack of skin. Finally, the moment came when the door was tiredly dragged open, and light filled the dark space. It was cut off not long after, and Cuervo stepped slowly into the center. When she was met with quiet, she wondered if maybe something was wrong… even worried about that.

"M?"

"You're troubled, Zoe. Care to share why?"

"… What are you talking about?"

"You can't fool me, Zoe. I see with more than just my eyes," he said calmly before swiveling in his chair. "Now please, let me help you bear the load."

This was… uncharacteristic of him. And for a moment, Zoe almost laughed. Bear the load? M? People like him were not great at listening unless it was to their advantage. Maybe that was the game here.

"Don't toy with me, M."

"Fine, I'll guess what the problem is. Is it about… a boy?"

"You had a mission for me?"

"Is it… a boy named Manny?"

The sound of crinkling rubber met M's ears as Zoe clenched her fists, and she started to grind her teeth once more. M drummed his fingers against one another, thinking hard, calculating his every move. Keeping in mind what he pondered early that morning, he came to a simple conclusion.

"I've been working you pretty hard, Zoe," he said coldly, "would you like some time off?"

"I don't need your pity. What I need is for you to be serious for once."

"I don't get you, Zoe… one day you're playful, the next you're bitter and uncontainable. Is it that I had you destroy innocent lives?"

He immediately regretted saying that, though he made no effort to show it. Of course it was that; terrorism is filthy. That's why he physically had no part of it. No number of showers can wash off that vile stink. Sensing that nothing he was saying would make her "feel better," M moved on to what he knew best.

"Alright, your mission. Today's an easy one. I need someone fast and pretty to take this file," he said as he thumbed through the papers stuck in the folder, "to Sartana of the Dead. It has a few… details she might be interested in. Now, seeing as you are my fastest and prettiest lieutenant-."

"Just give me the damn file!"

"… Feisty today."

He stood from his seat and casually approached her, file in hand. Cuervo, expecting him to just hand her the file, was caught severely off guard when his hand took her by the chin. And this… really disturbed her. Too confused, or frightened, or possibly both to pull away just yet, Black Cuervo just stared into the darkness in front of her.

"Just keep at the grind, Zoe," he whispered as he let go of her chain and handed her the file, "and soon, he'll be gone from your mind. You'll have peace."

She left very quickly, more than a little scared by him. And sensing this in her, M smiled again, returning to his seat and picking up his phone. He called up Nikolai, hoping for one thing to be ready today…

--

_Sartana's Lair, 8:04 AM_

--

She strummed casually, hummed low, and waited patiently. What more was there to do when you're dead? Sartana had learned long ago that a guitar wasn't just a means to channel the horrifying power of the hereafter; it was a great tool to communicate messages in a non-static way, using pleasant sounds to help carry the message deep into the listeners' subconscious. And in knowing this, and expressing this, Sartana smiled in the least menacing way possible for an animated skeleton. Though they weren't perfect, the musical notes filled the air of the central atrium of the prison, distorted by the probably cursed loot that littered the floor. And then came another sound, equally distorting, and as the seconds passed increasingly more. Black Cuervo slowly lowered herself into the atrium through a hole in the ceiling, clutching a manila folder filled with papers she didn't care to look at. As her boots touched the floor, Sartana ceased her movements, not even looking up at the young lady as she searched the room for any sign of a threat.

"Looking for something, child?" As her icy voice sliced the air apart, Sartana tilted her head, just barely revealing the piercing red points of light that served as her eyes. "You have a lost look about you."

"Sartana…"

Sartana stood slowly, setting her guitar against the side of her throne in the process. Putting one bony foot in front of the other in a noisy procession, she approached Cuervo, eventually stopping but an arm's length away. There she stood silently, smiling down at the scared girl. It was unnerving.

"You have something for me, child?"

"M sent this for you."

"Ah yes, your commander," the skeleton replied as she took the folder, "and my ally. Though, the more I look at it, he's more of a crutch for Django and myself… and more of a master for you. Tell me… what's it like being his servant girl?"

Cuervo frowned, but didn't look away from Sartana's red eyes. It didn't matter who it was, or frankly what it was; nobody mocked Black Cuervo.

"The pay is good, and the second he's dead, I get his empire."

"Unless he kills you first, Aves."

That was a stunning revelation, really. And it only made sense now that it was coming from someone else. Maybe Zoe was only in M's good graces because Black Cuervo was a rare, reliable resource for him. But what would happen the second that resource was exhausted? Surely she would be…

"Not so satisfying, thinking about it, is it Aves?"

"You know nothing, you old bag of bones."

"I know without looking that things were better before he showed up, child!"

Black Cuervo backed up as Sartana shook her clawed hand at her menacingly, and then looked at the skeleton puzzlingly as she thought about the implications of that statement. Better? Better how? The villains had more sway now than ever. Well, except maybe that time when all the heroes in the city were sealed in the Miracle City convention center. That was a good day… Sartana continued to speak.

"The status quo has been destroyed. And it's only a matter of time before we are destroyed as well."

"Wait a minute," Cuervo replied quietly, "didn't _you _try to kill all the villains in Miracle City once?"

"Ho ho, yes," Sartana replied mirthfully, waving her hand in a dismissing fashion, "but this is different. Something else entirely."

"Ah-ha. I'll be going now, Sartana."

As she turned to leave, crouching down for a jump to make flying easier, Sartana placed a hand on her shoulder. Comfort was not one of things that Sartana was particularly good at; it simply wasn't in her nature. Also, it's a difficult thing to communicate when you're dead.

"Going where? Back to being a slave? Back to having no hope?"

"…"

"Black Cuervo… M will visit me tonight. And tonight, I will strike him down forever. It's likely that it won't be easy. And it's likely that he will call for help in some way, or ask you to come along. What I need from you, if you want to be free again… is to not help him."

"… I can't do that. In fact, I should tell him right now about this treachery."

There was a moment where both of the villains knew what would and what wouldn't happen; a moment of understanding each other. Zoe, not Black Cuervo, nodded in agreement with Sartana of the Dead before storming off noisily into the sky.

--

_Suarez Residence, 9:54 AM_

--

There was the sound of sirens in the distance; what else was new? The world was burning to the ground, so of course there would be sirens in the distance. Frankly, Frida was surprised that there weren't sirens right outside. As she finished squaring away everything in the guest room as her mother asked, Frida sighed, hearing a different sound now: car doors slamming shut just outside the house. Walking slowly down the stairs and approaching the front door, she girded her loins and steeled her resolve. The end had come at last. She turned the knob, pulled on the door and…

"Frida!"

There were two of them, and they struck with such strength and speed that the girl really stood no chance. What defense was there from twin sisters who haven't seen you in six months, but desperately wanted to? It wasn't long until Frida was up off the ground, caught in the embrace of her older sisters.

"Hello Anit- ow, ow, my hair! Hi Nikita… how was the trip?"

"Awful. Needless to say," Nikita began, only to have her sentence picked up by her sister.

"There weren't any planes flying after the attack. Trains were running though. The airline reimbursed us, and we used the money to buy train tickets."

"Which is why we're a day late," Nikita finished, pushing her sister playfully.

"Ah," Frida sighed, hoping for something else to talk about soon. Nobody knew it, but without Manny around, she was waning again. And Anita and Nikita were certainly not qualified to deal with that sort of sadness.

--

_Japan, Middle of the Night_

--

Something big was happening. Disaster big; the irony is that this disastrous event was localized to a small area: a warehouse. There were sixteen dead; six local thugs, moving "products" in large crates, and ten police officers responding to an anonymous tip that the warehouse was being used to hide drugs. Now the local authorities numbering in the hundreds had locked down the warehouse perimeter, carefully plotting out their next move. Luckily, they didn't have to wait long for the exact back-up they needed. Captain Yoshime, who had taken control of the front line, had witnessed the arrival of the much needed aid, and bowed in deep respect.

"The Seventh Samurai… we are so glad you could make it."

"Thank you captain," he replied with a deep bow of his own. He stood tall then, and looked at the warehouse with a hardened gaze. "Tell me about the enemy."

"They struck from the shadows, killing both the criminals inside and the tactical unit sent in to apprehend them," Yoshime began, walking to the very front of the police barricade, "not all of our officers were immediately slain. One managed to radio out some critical information."

"Is it the Ninja Monster Clan?"

"I'm afraid not. The officer relayed that they were mechanical, and equipped with weapons you might be familiar with."

"Interesting… don't worry captain. I'll be the tip of the spear. Once the line has been broken, I'll send the all clear. I hate leaving mop up to you fine officers, but if these machines are as deadly as you say…"

"I understand," Yoshime stated coolly, he himself not wanting to lose any other good officers to whatever lay within, "good luck, Samurai."

The Seventh Samurai passed between the gaps in the police blockade, making his way hastily to the warehouse door, still open from when the tactical squad entered. He passed from the dark of the night into the dark of death haunted building, immediately picking up a sense of dread. But as a battle-hardened hero, he chose to ignore that feeling; it simply meant that his self-preservation mechanism was working, nothing else. Drawing his sword, he grew closer to the center of the room, pausing periodically whenever he would stumble upon the body of a dead officer. The first was killed by gun fire, which was typical in the Samurai's experience. But as he drew closer to the epicenter, the wounds became more mysterious. Tears in flesh, crushing injuries, shuriken… the last body he found had been cut down by sword. Finally, the Seventh Samurai found something very, very peculiar: seven identical baskets in a row, basking in the moonlight pouring through a window on the far wall.

"… What is this…?"

He immediately regretted speaking as the "baskets" opened up into the thin frames of the mechanical monsters. All seven possessed their own specific weapons, and though the samurai was assured that the slain officers had indeed made direct hits on the machines as per the final radio report, they bore no damage. He backed up a step as the center machine slowly advanced, drawing a black katana from some unseen location. Acting on instinct, the Samurai changed his stance and slashed at the robot, gasping as the blade slid across the machine's surface rather than through it.

--

_Sartana's Lair, Sundown_

--

A pair of black SUVs came to a stop at the front gate of the dilapidated prison, and the first out of the second vehicle was M. He paused to stare at the structure, and was soon joined by his most well trained agents and his lieutenant, who had thought long and hard about Sartana's offer. Cuervo did not betray her feelings, though, and stood tall with an expression of stoic command. M detected this confidence, and smiled.

"Feeling better, Cuervo?"

"Much."

"Excellent," he replied quietly, cracking his neck with quick little movements, "ready to go in again?"

"No."

"… No?"

"I figure that I'm your best chance in terms of back-up in case it's a trap. If it is a trap, and we both go in..."

"Very good. You _are_ learning something. I'm so proud," he said in an almost cute fashion. With a sigh, he approached the gate and pushed it open. "Make sure the truck gets here on time. I don't want any foul ups here."

Immediately upon entering the unhallowed grounds, M was aware of the eyes upon him, though this was to be expected. The last time he was here, there was no security, which was because there was no Sartana to form the ranks. Now that she walked the earth once more, why shouldn't there be defenses in place? And frankly, was he himself any different? M reached the doors, and pushed them open to enter. It was… darker than he remembered. The only light, for some reason, seemed to come through the door; strange, because he _knew _for a fact that there were holes in the ceiling. And when the door was shut, and the light snuffed out completely, he knew exactly what was happening.

"A trap…"

"Very astute, my mortal friend."

The dim artificial lights flickered on, revealing rows of skeleton banditos along walkways and on the floor, reinforced by their vicious mistress. M did not smile, did not, in fact, express any emotion.

"So you're finally cashing in your threat, Sartana…"

"I told you this would happen," she said, holding back a cackle. She stood from her throne and embraced her guitar, readying herself for combat. "But frankly, I think you put it best: what did you expect of war?"

"It comes to this then. My will against yours."

"Enough talk!"

Django, who hid in the shadows, revealed his position with that shout, as well as with the aggressive rush he made against the guard rail high up on the walkway on which he stood. Unlike his grandmami, he wanted the action to begin. But… why?

"Agreed," Sartana chimed, "banditos, destroy him!"

All at once they advanced, leaping from their positions and charging fast. The attack continued even as M crushed one bandito after another, pounding entire lines into dust, trying his best to compensate for being pushed back to the wall by sheer numbers. He was losing, and he did not like it.

"This betrayal won't do you any good, Sartana! I'll still-," he was cut off by a blow to the gut, and then a blow to the face, sending him to the floor. He didn't stay their long, regaining lost ground with a sweeping kick. This bought him the time he needed to climb back to his feet and start the fight again. "I'll still win! I always win!"

Outside, far across the prison grounds, Black Cuervo stood waiting, smiling quietly. At this stage no one could hear the bedlam, so what were they to think? She knew though that sooner or later this would get ugly. Though inside, one wouldn't think that. M had crushed enough of Sartana's minions to force her to change tactics.

"Enough! Clear the way! I want to kill this man myself!"

Her call had the banditos out of the way in no time, save for one, who was in the air in M's clutches. He crushed this one at the rib cage with a tight squeeze of his hands and forearms. With the way clear, he stared down at Sartana, bleeding from several cuts along his face as well as a tear in his lip. The rush was working… just not well enough. Without wasting another second, he charged at her. Sartana's response was striking her strings; from the headstock came a bolt of green nether energy, threatening the life of the target. He stopped in a split second, focused, and thrust his hand toward the beam. Blue flame met green lightning, and the attack, with a thunderous crack, was sent to the wall, tearing through a bandito in the process. This noise got the attention of M's agents, who drew their weapons and approached the gate. They were stopped by Black Cuervo.

"Just wait, you idiots. He has it under control. And even if he doesn't," she said coldly, crossing her arms, "what do you think _guns_ will do here?"

Despite the sound of a second blast, followed shortly by a third, the agents had to acquiesce to this logic. If M couldn't defeat Sartana, there was really little hope for them. But… wasn't Cuervo his back-up? Inside, control of the situation had rapidly gone to Sartana, who with each attack had M closer to the wall. She finally pushed him to his knees when he failed to completely redirect an attack, absorbing some of the shock himself. Burned out and wounded, he panted, suffering from a pain he was unfamiliar with. Sartana stood over him, cackling madly.

"Tell me, M," she shouted violently, "what was that about always winning?"

He looked up at her, angry, but still reserved, as if he knew something… the sound of scattering coins caught Sartana's attention, though she didn't turn to see what had happened. Django, watching all this transpire from high above the floor, approached the dueling villains, stopping when he had his grandmami at an angle, and M directly in his line of sight. The failing mortal turned his attention to Django.

"It would seem that I… have failed," he said quietly, "and I will perish because of that failure, I suppose."

"That you will M," Sartana said quietly, pointing the headstock at his head for the kill, "that you will…"

Something then happened that was entirely unexpected… for Sartana. The sound of a guitar being struck, the sound of a blast of violent nether energy, and the sound of her scream as her bones flew about and her guitar fell to the floor. Sartana's skull bounced twice, then stopped in a pile of coins. Though this sort of trauma would leave a skeleton bandito useless, Sartana of the Dead had much more working for her. She assessed the situation immediately.

"D-django! What is this?!"

"Sorry, nana," he said with a wicked smile, "but the times have changed."

M stood smoothly, apparently unhindered by his injuries. He knitted his fingers together and cracked his knuckles before taking to stretching his arms. Django approached his grandmother's skull and lifted it in his hands.

"Django, when your father hears about this-!"

"He won't be hearing about it, nana. You won't be going back to the underworld just yet."

--

_1__st__ Miracle City Bank, recently acquired_

--

"_She'll be contained in the vault. If my thinking is correct, as long both her bones and her guitar remain intact, and separated, she will not be a threat."_

Agents carried a pair of large containers, aided by bank security, asked to stay late to help with extremely sensitive materials by their new employer. The vault, a huge steel mechanism, was pulled open by a pair of security guards as the agents hauled the two sealed containers into the vault. Therein rested two long safes, which lay horizontally across the vault floor, slightly larger than the containers themselves.

"_With Sartana contained, all control of the skeleton banditos will be redirected to Django, who I quickly curried favor with. The young have always been my specialty, it seems."_

The agents placed the smaller containers into the reinforced steel safes, which were then sealed shut, safeguarded with three locks each: a digital keypad, a standard mechanical dial-lock, and a key-lock, fitted to a single key in the whole of the world. The agents and security guards filed out of the vault, which was quickly closed and sealed for the night, guarding all of the money, the gold, the stocks and bonds, and now the secret prize of M's coup within.

"_I don't fear reprisal, because I'm ultimately making the world a better place. Those criminals which don't side with me, and submit themselves to M, are consumed by its fury. Miracle City, Paris, Tokyo, Beijing, London, Moscow… they are all the same. Some of them just don't know it yet."_

The agents then climbed back into their respective vehicles, driving off into the night. The truck which bore Sartana to this location, upon moving, revealed a billboard which had been erected next to the bank: 1st Miracle City Bank, a new division of Maximum Enterprises.

--

_Japan, the Warehouse_

--

"_The old order has failed, in every possible way. It is weak. And that makes it very, very easy to wash away. My success is not due to my power, or my intelligence, or my association, though those things do a great deal to aid me. No, my victory is assured by the weakness of the old order."_

The Seventh Samurai quickly lost control of the battle when he entered the warehouse and encountered the prototype Ultrabots. They were designed for one purpose: assassinating super heroes. The Samurai was not yet dead; his son, Toshiro, had intervened before that could happen. He was reinforced soon after he himself started to lose the battle by a second tactical police team. Missing an arm and being filled with bullet holes and razor sharp throwing stars, the Cyber Sumo was barely in any condition to move, much less fight. Bearing his wounded father, Toshiro, on the advice of the tactical team, escaped the building before the officers were wiped out. The Ultrabots gave pursuit.

"_I have new weapons. New soldiers. They will be unstoppable."_

The Ultrabots, having left the innards of the warehouse, engaged the police barricade. Fire and explosions filled the area as one car after another was destroyed_, _as the engines of death tore their way through the lines and toward the darkness that would permit their retreat. Their mission was done.

"_All that I have to do is make sure my every target falls, my every foe perishes, and my every battle is a victory. Frankly, that won't be too hard."_

--

_Airfield outside of Miracle City_

--

"Scary times, eh Maldin?"

"Very scary, captain…"

"You know what I like during scary times, Maldin?"

"Cerveza!"

"Cerveza! Yeah, want one?"

"You know it, captain!"

Being a polite and industrious worker, Maldin had opened the door to the air hangar which served as the smugglers' home when they weren't running drugs. He entered slowly, shouting when he saw something he wished he hadn't and gurgling as he fell to the ground. The captain, knowing the sound of death, rushed in behind his best worker, gasping when he saw a group of men in black. One sat in the captain's favorite chair, pointing a gun equipped with a silencer at the man who had recently smuggled something other than drugs to places unknown.

"Who the hell are you?" The captain, trying to remain strong in the face of this unscheduled adversity, pointed a finger as he asked this.

"Captain… we understand that you ferried an old man and his grandson out of the country recently. Care to discuss this?"

--

**Author's Note: **OMG. OMG. Was that chapter good for you? It was good for me! And what was with that last section? Any guesses?!


	12. Chapter 12

_It's not that you won't see death coming… you will, and the realization will simply have come too late._

_--  
_

**Chapter 12, Drop Off**

--

_Bella Vista landing strip, one week later, 8:33 PM_

--

They were mulling about in search of something, the seven men in black. With their technology and expertise, they scanned the earth on which they stood, searching for something, anything, any sign of their quarry. It was rapidly becoming a fruitless endeavor; considering that they were more than a week behind the two Riveras, what hope did Agent Geoffrey and his squad have to really succeed? Just the same, that they'd made it this far was a testament to… good detective work. It was also a testament to the old pilot's resistance to torture; tough old man, that one. Geoffrey sat on a rock, pondering thoughts deeper than he was paid to ponder. He thought about whether or not the pay was good enough to be doing this. Sure, he got to see the world…

"Agent Geoffrey."

"Hm?"

Geoffrey hastily got up from his sitting rock and walked to the side of the man who disturbed his peace. He held a machine in his hands, from which came an eerie iridescent light. It revealed, pounded into the ground, a worn but still present tire track that left in a far different direction than any of the others.

"What's in that direction?"

"If you go far enough? The Mariscal Caceres province," the agent replied, "not really anything special."

"If it's not special, why aren't we finding more tracks going that way? I have to alert M. He'll want to know this is finally working out."

--

_M's Command Center, 7:36 PM_

--

The phone rang away. Again and again it rang, filling an empty room with its quiet, digital tone. M, it seems, was gone; his computers were off, his chair was abandoned, and the lights were all on. … Well that's not at all like him. He stood in the hall, leaning against a wall and just thinking. He'd turned on the lights in his room because something was bothering him, cutting him to the core. Something about the week before; the coup d'est grace against Sartana. It went swimmingly, except for one thing he did not at all plan.

"Zoe… where are you?"

M was a controller; if the universe wasn't marching to his beat, then he felt a deep drive to fix that. And right now, though Django of the Dead was allied to him, the absence of his left hand, which came at a time when his right hand, Nikolai, was also gone, left M very, very upset. And then came that incessant ringing. Enough! Storming into his office, he took the phone angrily, pressed it against his ear, and smoothly, calmly answered the call.

"This is M."

"_Sir. Agent Geoffrey, reporting from Peru, Bella Vista province. We believe we've found something."_

"Oh," M replied with a cold smile, "that is wonderful news. What have you found?"

"_It's not much, sir," _Geoffrey answered back, a little unsure of himself now that he was actually talking to his boss, _"but we've found tracks that may lead to the next province over… what was it? … Mariscal Caceres? Yes, Mariscal Caceres."_

"… Interesting. Inform the Lima division of Maximum Enterprises that you require its resources to find a… corporate spy," he said, booting up his computers, "I'll see what I can do from here to expedite the process."

"_Yes sir."_

The click that ended the phone call came from both ends; Maxim, though still slightly lost in his thoughts, plotted out his exact move. He clicked on his keyboard, brining up a black screen. On it was the blinking image of a telephone receiver. When it finally disappeared, it was replaced with the image of Dr. Koreyama, and this sight brought a smile to M's face. Koreyama, a very bright and intuitive man, also smiled.

"_I take it you've found him."_

"I'll send the data we have so far. Contact the Lima division of Max. Enterprises when you've landed in Peru."

"_Yes, M. I believe you'll be even more pleased with the results of this trial than the Tokyo trial."_

"Though I find that hard to believe, doctor," M replied, smiling and leaning back in his chair, "I look forward to said results just the same."

--

_Waldo's Estate, Mariscal Caceres, Friday, 3:10 PM_

--

"Go-o-o-al!"

Tired, huffing, sweating, Manny Rivera pushed himself up from the grass once again. Soccer was still damn hard for him when he wasn't cheating. It didn't help that he hasn't played in years, or that Waldo's grandchildren were all better than him, or that it was still so hot. The children didn't seem to notice the extra four degrees… it was really quite peculiar. Compounding on his exhaustion, Manny was a little frustrated with what a show off Hosea, Waldo's favorite grandson, had turned out to be. 5' 7", 13 years old, a build that no girl could resist, piercing green eyes that made absolutely no sense… the kid was designed to stand out. What's more, he was very good at soccer, and very aware of that. Hosea approached Manny slowly, smiling with his hands on his waist.

"Come on Manny, a couple more goals? Then we'll call it a day."

"Yeah," Manny replied, "a couple more goals."

Manny climbed to his feet with a tired sigh and retrieved the ball from the small practice net it was nestled in. Giving it a gentle toss to Hosea, he grimaced slightly as the show-off set about strutting his stuff again. Spiking the ball upward with his knee, Hosea began to walk slowly back to the center of the field, varying between bouncing the ball from his knee to his foot to his head, all while smoothly walking across the grass. Hosea, it seemed, was just one of those people with a perfect center of gravity. Halting his showboating, the young athlete dropped the ball in the poorly drawn white-chalk circle designating the field's heart, and smirked as he took his side of the field. Manny took up position in front of him. All the while, Waldo's other grandchildren, a collection of six girls, watched and giggled as their cousin, their brother, or whatever their relationship to Hosea constituted, made short work of the superhuman out-of-towner once again. Each time Hosea scored, it seemed to take less and less time; after this one, Manny was dog tired and getting a little angry. His temper was close to flaring, but his thoughts were interrupted by little Nina, the youngest granddaughter. In all truth, Manny had taken a quick liking to Nina, the six year old who reminded him so much of Frida and always made him feel a little better about leaving his home behind.

"Don't worry, Manny," she said with a sweet voice, "Hosea's just proving he's as good as you. After all, he doesn't have super powers." She leaned to left to look around Manny at her older brother. "In fact, the only thing super about him is his ability to fail math."

Hosea pouted and turned up his face in a mock frown. He couldn't get it to last, and instead let out a string of laughs that even lightened Manny's heart. Gaining a last wind, he stood again and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Alright, Hosea, one more goal."

Hosea smiled and clapped his hands together, jogging towards Manny's goal to retrieve the ball. He stopped short and lost the smile when he couldn't see the black and white in the goal. It was the damnedest thing, but the ball was some thirty feet to the left of the goal, and a little further behind it; it was as if the ball never made it in, which was strange, because everyone saw it go in. Manny thought nothing of it.

"I got it."

Wiping more sweat out his eyes and walking slowly to conserve what remained of his energy, Manny came within ten steps of the ball when it began to move. Not slowly, as if propelled by a breeze, but not lightning quick either. Again, it was the damnedest thing; it continued its rough movement towards a drop off, the off limits section of Waldo's estate, and in reality its border. Manny, seeking to get the ball before it went over, broke into a run and jumped for it. He missed when the ball's movement spiked, sending it over the edge with the force of a kick. Pushing himself off the grass, he gazed down the slope, watching the ball bounce ever closer to a string of buildings near the base of slope. Manny stood as Nina and Hosea ran up behind him.

"Hey guys, what's that down there?"

"The ghosts…" Nina replied with a shiver.

"Ghosts?"

"She means ghost town," Hosea said with a tone of arrogant knowledge, "grandpa says it's haunted so the little kids'll stay away. It's a stupid way of saying that it's dangerous, or whatever."

Manny was silent at first, wondering still what made the ball move the way it did; the sight of the soccer ball bouncing in place like a basketball got a faint gasp out of him, and much more out of Nina.

"Ghosts! Ghosts!"

Nina, still one to fear unexplained happenings, broke away towards the rest of the grandchildren. Hosea and Manny continued to watch the ball, though only Manny had any plan. With a brilliant green flash, he leaped over the side of the drop off with more athleticism than Hosea could ever hope to achieve. After five or six seconds of falling, he landed with a smooth roll, though he skidded a few feet across the gravelly soil upon landing. He turned his head up to look for the ball, though it was no longer where it had been just ten seconds before. Instead, it was rolling steadily toward the heart of the town. Manny's heart hitched a bit when he swore that he saw a shimmer chasing the ball; a shimmer shaped roughly like a man. But Rivera's aren't afraid of ghosts. Hell, until recently, they would fight skeletons on a regular basis, and surely giant monsters are infinitely more dangerous than ghosts. He gave chase, seeking to both get to the bottom of this mysterious phenomenon and to retrieve the ball. Manny entered the town, and an impressed sigh escaped his lips. It was a sense of discovery that had filled him just now… even though everyone in the area was aware of the dry skeleton of a town, he himself had just wandered into it, and it was a marvelous sensation. Looking up at the waning wooden architecture, he didn't really take notice of the soccer ball at first, which was wedged tightly in a hole in a collapsed porch. Once he broke free of his wonder, Manny's eyes found the black and white and started prying it from the hole. It was in so tight… how did that happen? Certainly not the wind, but… could it? There was a sudden noise behind him; it was a metallic whir, like hydraulics working, or gears smoothly operating together. When he turned to see what caused the sound, all he saw were seven wicker baskets. Well, they looked like wicker; enough so that even upon inspection within three feet, Manny as certain they were indeed baskets. He thus wrote said baskets off as the source of the noise, though he couldn't remember seeing them when he walked into the town. He turned to leave, walking past the seven objects of disinterest with the soccer ball, but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the sound of metal again, or rather, seven times in quick succession. The sudden dread he felt… palpable wasn't even strong enough in terms of definition. Acting on that sensation of fear, Manny turned hastily around, tossing the ball aside and drawing his claws. He was met with fourteen piercing red eyes.

"… What the hell are you guys…?"

"_El Tigre."_

"… Uhm… yes?"

"_We have come to kill you."_

His eyes widened, but not as much out of fear as in predatory reflex. Of course, he wasn't the only with such reflexes; one of the mechanical assassins, fixed with a pair of miniguns for four arms, raised its weapons and took aim with lightning speed and murderous precision. It began firing madly at the quickly evading target. El Tigre, running, leaping, forcing himself to find cover, escaped behind old support beams, walls of structures long far past their prime. Needless to say, these wooden obstacles did little to deter the spray of bullets. He did, however, find a boulder behind which to hide, and he remained there to catch his breath. Amidst the shooting, impossible to hear, was a sound like that of a zip line; had El Tigre been in a position to watch, he'd have seen a long cable being launched from the torso of another of the more or less identical Ultrabots. It landed just short of the boulder, and two second later exploded in a line of crackling, engulfing the boulder in its scorching energy.

--

_The Soccer Field, 3:15 PM, just before the attack_

--

Hosea had walked back to his six cousins and sisters, confident Manny would get the ball back. Nina, it seemed, was bawling her eyes out, whimpering something about ghosts. While the other girls didn't know exactly what to say, Hosea did. Kneeling to her level, he took Nina by the cheeks and gave her a stern look.

"Nina, tell me something. How many ghosts play soccer?"

This, one must realize, is not a question to be taken seriously; it's a mental distraction, not unlike wondering if a falling tree in a desolate forest makes a sound. Nina, in pondering exactly how many ghosts actually knew how to play soccer, slowly began to reclaim her calmness. Her efforts were shattered when the sound of gunfire broke out. Hosea stood quickly to calm her down with more calm words.

"Now now, we all know what grandpa's business is. He's probably just testing out some-."

The explosion that followed shook even Hosea, who turned in the direction of the echoing blast: the drop off. Out of reflex, he immediately started herding the girls back toward the house. Something was happening that grandpa should know about.

--

**From the Author:** Hey all. Sorry about the hiatus. And sorry that this chapter is so short after so long a break. But I'm still not totally back in the game; I just don't have it in me for a long chapter. Don't be sad, though – there shall be more. And it shall be neat.

Also, for those of you (who are left, anyway...) who feel that too little development has been given to Manny x Frida... just hold on, dammit! There's still plenty of story left.

Final note. My Hosea, while similar in physical description and personality, is not at all related to the Hosea outlined in The Queen of Aces' famed "The Second Generation Chronicles." That would be silly, seeing as they aren't even in the same generation. What sort of craziness would compel you to suggest that they were related?


End file.
